She followed him in silence. Her expression was cold and fixed. It struck him that she, too, had lived past hope and dread.
She did not sit down when she had closed the door, but stood upright, facing him.
He spoke hoarsely.
"I am going upstairs," he said. "I told you once that some day it would see the light again in spite of us both. You can guess what work I shall do to-night."
"Yes," she answered, "I can guess. I gave up long ago."
She looked at him steadily; her eyes dilated a little as if with slow-growing fear of him.
"I knew it would end so," she went on. "I fought against my belief that it would, but it grew stronger every day—every hour. There was no other way."
"No," he replied, "there was no other way."
"I have seen it in your face," she said. "I have heard it in your voice. It has never been absent from your thoughts a moment—nor mine."
He did not speak.