“I could see no other way of finding out for sure. Like yourself, nothing seemed to me so bad as uncertainty.”
“Yes,” once more; just “yes.”
“He sat just where you are sitting now; and when I told him he laughed.” A second the brown eyes dropped, then in infinite pathos they returned to the listener’s face. “You know how he laughs when he’s irresponsible. It was horrible.”
“I know,” echoed Roberts. “I’ve heard it.”
“And then he went away. I sent him away. I couldn’t stand any more then. It seemed to me I’d go mad if I tried.”
Although the room was warm, the girl was shivering; rising, Roberts lit the gas in the grate. But he said nothing, absolutely nothing.
Through wide-open eyes the girl watched him 343 as he returned to his seat. Involuntarily she threw out both arms in a gesture of impotency absolute.
“That’s all,” she completed, “except that I told him to return—if he felt he must. I’ve been expecting him every minute all day; anticipating horrors. But I haven’t heard a word.”
It was the mystery at last, impersonate. Like a live presence it stood there between these two human beings in the room, holding them apart, and each in his separate place.
Not for a moment but for minutes this time they sat in silence. Neither thought of speaking commonplaces now, nor again of things intimate. The period for these was past; the present too compellingly vital. What the man was thinking he did not say nor reveal by so much as an expression. He had given his word not to do so; and with Darley Roberts a promise was sacred. A question he did ask, though, at last.