"Only Mrs. Lorimer. I lost sight of people when I married. And then—" Avery halted momentarily "after my baby girl died, for a long time I didn't seem to care for making new friends."
"Ah!" said Tudor, his tone unwontedly gentle. "You will soon have another child to care for now."
She made a slight gesture as of protest. "Do you know I can't picture it? I do not feel that it will be so. I believe one of us—or both—will die."
She spoke calmly, so calmly that even Tudor, with all his experience, was momentarily shocked. "Avery!" he said sharply. "You are morbid!"
She looked at him then with her tired eyes. "Am I?" she said. "I really don't feel particularly sad—only worn out. When anyone has been burnt—badly burnt—it destroys the nerve tissues, doesn't it? They don't suffer after that has happened. I think that is my case."
"You will suffer," said Tudor.
He spoke brutally; he wanted to rouse her from her lethargy, to pierce somehow that dreadful calm.
But he failed; she only faintly smiled.
"I can bear bodily suffering," she said, "particularly if it leads to freedom and peace."
He got up as if it were he who had been pierced. "You won't die!" he said harshly. "I won't let you die!"