She shook her head but sat looking at me out of tragic eyes—suffered me to press her lovely hands to my lips, watching me all the while.
"You had better go, Michael."
I laid her hands in her lap. She clasped them so tightly that the delicate nails whitened.
"It will come out right," said I, rising.
"It never will.... I—I love you."
At the door I hesitated. But she did not speak. And I opened it and went out.
XXI
SUS SCROFA
For two exasperating weeks, now, the Schwindlewald pass had remained hermetically sealed with snow, utterly isolating the valley. It is true that a Swiss airplane had appeared overhead and had dropped several tons of bread which we did not require, and a message couched in hysterical language reminding us that God would protect us while several score of sweating Swiss dug us out.
Personally I didn't care except for the highly objectionable colony of boches with whom I was obliged to share an imprisonment which otherwise would never have bored me.