As she spoke he heard wheels grinding the stones in the upper lane, the shriek of the brake grinding the wheel, and the shuffling of men's feet on the flagged yard outside.
He shut the door and faced her, making his last stand.
"You know what you're going back to."
"I know."
"To suffer," he said, "and to cause suffering—to one—two—three—innocent people."
"No. Things will be different."
"They won't. We shall be the same."
She shook her head a little helplessly.
"At any rate," he said, "you won't be different."
"If I could—if I only could be——"