"The two so often come together," she trembled.
"Yes," he nodded; "I think that is true. Perhaps they belong together."
"I have only just learned that," she said.
"And you've been left with the grief?"
"I can't tell, Peter. Sometimes I think so, and then again I see the justice of it, and it seems beautiful. All I 'm sure of is that I 'm left alone."
"Even with me?"
"Even with you, Peter."
He passed his hand over his eyes.
"This other—do I know him?" he asked finally.
"Yes."