“You two belong to each other.”
“Then Stella must decide,” said John.
She threw out a flutter of delicate fingers and covered her face. “No, no!” she gasped.
The lightning flickered mildly in the well-lit room, and the eventual thunder reverberated in distant anger.
John again came close to Herold. “This may be an extraordinary conversation, but it has to be. If Stella loved me, do you think she would stand like that?”
Stella dropped to her knees, her face and arms huddled against the chair.
“My dear old man, I’ve learned many things of late. I can’t tell you exactly. I’m not good at that sort of thing. But Unity has been too big for me.”
Stella raised a white face.
“What do you mean? Say exactly what you mean.”
“I mean—oh, God knows what I mean.” He strode blindly across the room, returned, and faced the two, still near together. “Can’t you understand?” he cried, with a wide gesture. “I’m infinitesimal sand beneath that child’s feet. I’m a blind mole in comparison with her transcendent vision. I’m in the dust. Oh, God!” He turned away.