"I don't know," she said. "Never, I think."
He looked up. Her eyes shone perilously over trembling pools of tears. He had not been irrelevant at all.
"You don't think anything of the sort," he said, with a sharp tenderness.
"No. I feel it. There isn't another book in me. I'm done for, Nicky."
Her tears were hanging now on the curve of her eyelashes. They shook and fell.
She sat there silent, fronting the abyss. Nicky was horrified and looked it. If that was how she took it——
"You've overworked yourself. That's all," he said presently.
"Yes. That's all."
She rose. "Nicky," she said, "it's half-past four. If we're going we must go."
"Are you sure you want to?"