Stella waited to hear something about the evening, but Adela broke the silence to say:
‘I must leave at ten in the morning. My husband will call for me.’
‘So early?’
‘Yes.’
There was silence again.
‘Will you come and see me before long, Stella?’
‘I will,’ was the gentle reply.
‘Thank you. I shall look forward to it very much.’
Then Adela said good-night, speaking more cheerfully.
In her bedroom she sat as before dinner. The fever had subsided during the past two hours, but now it crept into her blood again, insidious, tingling. And with it came so black a phantom of despair that Adela closed her eyes shudderingly, lay back as one lifeless, and wished that it were possible by the will alone to yield the breath and cease. The night pulsed about her, beat regularly like a great clock, and its pulsing smote upon her brain.