She put out a timid hand and touched his sleeve.
“You must n't do and feel too much, or you 'll break down.”
“Why should I, if you have n't?” he asked with a faint smile.
“I think it cowardly to break down when one ought to be strong,” she said.
“Are you afraid of my being a coward, Stella?”
She uttered a little cry, and her touch became a grasp.
“You! Oh, no! You? You 've been strong. There 's no need for you to do any more. You 've got to live your own life and not that of other people—”
“The only life left to me,” he said in a low voice, “is that of those dear to me.”
John lumbered up gloomily. “You must persuade him to take a rest, Stella. He has been driving himself to death.” He laid a heavy hand on his friend. “God knows what I should have done without him all this time. Wait,” he said suddenly, with the other hand uplifted.
And all were silent when to a scuffle of feet succeeded a measured tramp of steps descending the stairs. The bearers passed along the passage by the door of the drawing-room. Unity was going forth on her last journey through the familiar Kilburn streets.