“I wonder if I will keep it,” he said moodily.
She turned, laying her hand on his arm, nodding her head, with conviction.
“You won’t lose it now.”
“And yet,” he said, laying his hand on her head, “there are times when I wonder if it had not been better—not to wake up.”
“You feel differently—about me, don’t you?” she said slowly.
“No.”
“Yes, yes—oh, it’s not that you love me less, I think, but—but if I went away, you would stand by yourself now! I mean it would not crush you.”
“Inga—you will go away some day,” he said, looking at her profoundly, speaking as one sometimes does in inspired moments—a thought which flashes across the lips before the will can check it.
For a moment they stood staring at each other, equally amazed.
“Why did you say that?” she said, at last, of the two the most visibly astounded.