"No," he replied. "Nothing has been in vain."
They stood silently for a minute, looking back over life. So might two shipwrecked passengers have stood on a frail raft waiting for the end, resigned but not unhopeful of a larger destiny beyond, while the elements boiled and roared around them.
"It was very weak of me to send that message," said Irene presently; "the message that brought you. I suppose," she added, "that it was the message that brought you?"
"Yes, thank God!" he replied.
"And if it had been impossible for you to come? If it had been an utterly critical moment in every way, what would you have done?"
He laughed a little, quietly, as he looked at her. "The question did not arise, fortunately," he replied.
"No," she admitted; "only I felt a little curious to know, now that everything is over. It is, isn't it? There is nothing to be done?"
"Oh yes," he replied with indomitable cheerfulness. "There is always something to be done."
"A chance?" she whispered incredulously. "A chance of escape, you mean?"
"It is possible," he said. "At least, I will go and hear what they have to say."