She struggled to free her hands. "You hurt me, Maurice! Let me go!"
"Be careful!—or I shall hurt you more than this. Now answer me!"
"You!—with your ridiculous heroics! Be careful yourself!"
His grip of her grew tighter.
"For your precious peace of mind then—that you may not be kept in suspense: what Heinz says there is—true!"
He did not at once grasp what she meant. He stood staring stupidly at her, still clutching her hands. With a determined effort, Louise wrenched them away.
"Don't you hear what I say? It's true—all true—every word of it!"
At the cruel repetition, he went pale, and after that, seemed to go on growing paler, until his face was like a sheet of paper. A horrible silence ensued; neither dared to let go of the other's eyes.
"My God!" he said at last. "My God!"
He sat down at the table, and buried his face in his arms. Louise did not move; she stood waiting, her hands, which were red and sore, pressed against her sides. And as minutes passed, and he did not stir, she began in a vacant way to count the ticks of the clock. If he did not speak soon, did not go on with what had to come, and get it over, she would be forced to scream. A scream was mounting in her throat.