"Pray for him! Pray for him!"
Mary wrenched her arm away and swung the door wide. Then suddenly she bent and kissed Nora's cheek, wet with tears.
Then she was out in the dim grey dawn, hurrying along the empty street. A cold wind was blowing now from the lake, the air was thick with fog.
Pray? Was it prayer—this voiceless cry of anguish from her heart toward the unknown? She could cry, O God, don't take him from me, her lips uttered the words as she ran. But who would hear?... Far, far beyond reach or understanding, the force that moved this world of beauty and terror, that made these poor human beings going their ways in darkness, sinning and suffering they knew not why. Cold ... harsh ... bleak was human fate, like this dim steely light, this cutting wind, this stony street....