“How long?”
“A very long time.”
“Yes—yes,” said Graham, suddenly testy. “But I want—Is it—it is—some years? Many years? There was something—I forget what. I feel—confused. But you—” He sobbed. “You need not fence with me. How long—?”
He stopped, breathing irregularly. He squeezed his eyes with his knuckles and sat waiting for an answer.
They spoke in undertones.
“Five or six?” he asked faintly. “More?”
“Very much more than that.”
“More!”
“More.”
He looked at them and it seemed as though imps were twitching the muscles of his face. He looked his question.