He did not answer.
"What have I done that displeases you, Teddy?" she said all at once.
But before he could answer, the room behind them dropped suddenly back into darkness.
"The light's gone out," she said, startled, her hand on his arm.
"The current's cut—that's all," he answered.
"I'll light a lamp."
"No. It's good here. Wait. It'll only be a moment."
They remained in the dark, turning their glances out of the window, suddenly conscious of the panorama of the evening, the stir of departing multitudes, the end of labor and the evening of rest.
"How plainly you can see," he said. "That's Brooklyn Bridge, isn't it?"
"Yes."