“No.”
“Look!”
He touched the scar on his forehead; but there was no recognition in her eyes.
“Look, I tell you!” he repeated, almost fiercely.
She said wearily: “I have seen so many men—so many men.... I can’t remember you.”
“And I have seen many women, Messenger; but I have never forgotten you—or what you did—or what you did——”
“I?”
“You.... And from that night I have lived only to find you again. And—oh, God! To find you here! My Messenger! My little Messenger!”
“Who are you?” she whispered, leaning forward on the table, dark eyes dilating with hope.
He sat heavily for a while, head bowed as though stunned to silence; then slowly the white misery returned to his face and he looked up.