"Yes," she answered.
He gave a contented sigh and turned his face to the wall. Stillman and Claire went out....
"He is making a brave fight," Stillman said at parting. "The bullet pierced the lung. But there are other complications. Bronchitis has developed. One can never tell."
She could not speak. She did not even say good-by to him.
"I shall call again for you to-morrow."
She acknowledged his words with a brief nod.
When she got home she filled the swinging-lamp in front of Danilo's name-day icon with oil and lit a floating taper. Miss Proll, who had been watching her curiously, looked puzzled. Her glance seemed to imply:
"Can it be that you believe in such foolishness?"
Claire found that it was impossible to answer a question at once so simple and so profound. There was every reasonable argument in the calendar to support Miss Proll's skepticism, but Claire was learning that life upon a reasonable basis was apt to be intolerable. It was the irrational, the impulsive, the imprudent moments that gave existence color and swift movement.