“You will come back?” she insisted.
“Who knows?” he replied.
“If you make up your mind to come back, you will come back. We have our fate in our hands,” she said.
He smiled slowly.
“You think so?” he said.
“I know it. If you don’t come back it will be because you don’t want to—no other reason. It won’t be because you can’t. It will be because you don’t want to.”
“Who told you so?” he asked, with the same cruel smile.
“I know it,” she said.
“All right,” he answered.
But he still sat with his hands abandoned between his knees.