She nodded gravely.
"We are in His hands," she said, "and nothing can be as terrible as what was threatened us by that vile man. The boy is safe. I have the help of your presence. We must kill imagination with work."
He looked about him again, doubtfully.
"Work?" he questioned. "Have we the chance to work?"
"Isn't it obvious," she said. "That is a courtyard. Above the ruins which brim it is the sky. If we use our strength and time to pluck a way through that to life again, we shall, at least, not think."
He paced forward a yard or two and examined the heaped wreckage of plaster, wooden beams, and stones. He hesitated.
"If we disturb it, there is just a chance of making our situation worse," he hazarded.
She shook her head.
"No," she said significantly. "Not worse. God might answer us that way, and save us suspense. And we shall, at any rate, have defied Fate to the end."
"Yes," he said. "In that I am with you; we will do our best—to the last. And if God's purpose falls upon us quickly, Claire, I thank Him here and now that He has permitted me to share this bitter cup with you, instead of draining that more bitter one which threatened an hour ago. At least I am not leaving you in Landon's hands, alone."