I waited, determined not to lose my patience.
"Tell me," I repeated after a pause.
"Victor, you must lend me your handkerchief," she said, turning her streaming eyes towards me.
The tears rained down over her lips and chin, and fell on the silk collar round her neck. She could not take her own handkerchief from her pocket, sitting as she was with my arm round her. I drew out mine and dried the wet eyes, and then pressed the soft reluctant head against my shoulder. Once there, it remained, too weary to lift itself again.
"Tell me, dearest."
"What, Victor?"
"The date."
"What date?"
"The thirteenth of next month," I said, decidedly.
I felt a startled quiver shoot through her.