"Ah—you should have had them sooner—"
"Why should I have had them at all? Do you think I would have published them before I knew I had dedicated them to my wife?"
"Keith—dear—you mustn't talk about that yet."
She hid her face on his shoulder; he lifted it and looked at it as if it could have told him what he had to know. It told him nothing; it had not changed enough for that. It was like a beautiful picture blurred, and the sweeter for the blurring.
He laid his hand over her heart. At his touch it leapt and throbbed violently, suggesting a new terror.
"Darling, how fast your heart beats. Am I doing it harm?"
"No, it doesn't mind."
"But am I tiring it?"
"No, no, you're resting it."
She lay still a long time without speaking, till at last he carried her upstairs and delivered her into Kitty's care. At the open door of her room he saw a nurse in uniform standing ready to receive her. Her presence there was ominous of the unutterable things he feared.