It was the first time she had spoken his name like that, and he was thrilled by the calmness of her voice, the untrembling gentleness of her hand as it touched his hand. From his bruised and bleeding flesh she raised her eyes to him, and they were no longer the dumb, horrified eyes he had gazed into fifteen minutes before. In the wonder of it he stood silent, and the moment was weighted with an appalling silence.
It came to them both in that instant—the tick-tick-tick of the watch in his pocket!
Without taking her eyes from his face she asked:
"What time is it. John?"
"Joanne——"
"I am not afraid," she whispered. "I was afraid this afternoon, but I am not afraid now. What time is it, John?"
"My God—they'll dig us out!" he cried wildly. "Joanne, you don't think they won't dig us out, do you? Why, that's impossible! The slide has covered the wires. They've got to dig us out! There is no danger—none at all. Only it's chilly, and uncomfortable, and I'm afraid you'll take cold!"
"What time is it?" she repeated softly.
For a moment he looked steadily at her, and his heart leaped when he saw that she must believe him, for though her face was as white as an ivory cross she was smiling at him—yes! she was smiling at him in that gray and ghastly death-gloom of the cavern!
He brought out his watch, and in the lantern-glow they looked at it.