"But to-morrow night?" trusting that his tone was quiet also. It must be quiet.
"Perhaps not for a good many nights. He does not know. I must not ask things. I never do."
"But it has been so wonderful that you know—"
On what plane was he—on what plane was she? What plane were they talking about with such undoubtingness? Heaven be praised his voice actually sounded natural.
"I do not know much—except that he is Donal. And I can never feel as if I were dead again—never."
"No," he answered. "Never!"
She lay so still for a few minutes that if her eyes had not been open he would have thought she was falling asleep. They were so dreamy that perhaps she was falling asleep and he softly rose to leave her.
"I think—he is trying to come nearer," she murmured. "Good-night, dear."