“You do! Then, you do wish it could last forever? Dear little D., if you chose, you could make it last.”
“Not forever. If anything lasted forever it would make me tired.—Hulloa, here we are.”
He helped her to alight The pavement had been swept; there was no excuse for carrying her.
“I live here,” she reminded him as he tried to touch her hand; “so let’s behave ourselves.”
She was settling back into the old rut of reticence, thinking again more of appearances than affection; even employing her old phrases to defend herself.
They stepped from the elevator and she slipped her key into the latch. He was trying to think of one final argument by which he might persuade her.
As the door pushed open, they halted; there was a sense of evil in the air. Desire clutched his arm for protection. They listened: panting; a chair falling; silence. Then the panting recommenced.
“Mother!”
The struggle stopped.
Teddy rushed across the hall to the front-room. He tried to keep Desire back. Vashti was stretched upon the couch, white as death, breathing hard, and exhausted. Her hair had broken loose and lay spread like a shawl across her breast. Mr. Dak was standing over her, his hands clenched. His collar was crumpled and had burst at the stud. His tie was drawn tight, as though it had been used to strangle him.