She sat down close to him.
"Are you doubtful, anxious to-night?"
"Well, this is rather an anxious time. The strain is strong."
"But you are strong, too!"
"I!" he exclaimed.
And there was in his voice a sound of great bitterness.
"Yes, I think you are. I know you are."
"You have very little reason for knowing such a thing," he answered, still with bitterness.
"You mean?"—she was looking at him almost furtively. "Whatever you mean," she concluded, "I can't help it! I think you are. Or perhaps I really mean that I think you would be."
"Would be! When?"