--Go. Reveal to me! The bell rang. --Go! The bell rang. The bell drove an iron finger between his eyes and her own. His eyes stirred. The bell rang. --Go! By the will of God, go! Leave me what my life has bled away To find at the Bottom ... The bell rang. His eyes were quickened, for his senses knew not her but that the bell rang. Fanny got up. He was fixed.... She felt a stirring under her heart. “Hush, Edith my child,” she murmured, getting up. Her body was stiff and leaden. But she felt with all her body how his eyes were quickened. Her own eyes turned her about. Fanny moved with her eyes. His eyes, stirring to life beyond her, were within her womb like a child unborn.... “Hush Edith!” She moved through the tunnelling hall, a shadow darker than it, about eyes that were wells of fire. She had put back the chain upon the door. Groping she loosed it. Thelma burst in.... Thelma Clark was there: exhilerant, laughing, savage. “O you dear ... waiting all this time for _me_.” She swayed. “In the dark! Waiting, you sillies, with a candle between you. What’s the matter with the gas?” The room flared bright. --Give me your eyes. Not to her! Let me hold your eyes. Thelma flung herself on Samson’s lap. She kissed him. Fanny saw his eyes draw in, swerve to another orbit, flame away.... The line of Thelma’s thigh lashed in blue silk, the crumple of her little breasts bursting within the lowcut waist ... there, there. The eyes of Samson died from the eyes of Fanny. He stood. He touched Thelma’s lips with his hand. “Come.” They were gone.... * * * * * Fanny heard the door shut. She was alone. She sat down where she had sat before at the table. She arose. She shut out the gas. A peal of Thelma’s laughter pierced the door. The room clapped close about the fainting flame of the one candle. Fanny sat down where she had sat before. Beyond her rigid gaze was an empty place. Beyond the empty place was the Night. Within her gaze was the Night. Her eyes held nothing. “And a Jew,” she murmured “a Jew was to bring me Light.” She faced the Emptiness about her. She met it. Emptiness? The little candle stilly laid it whole, perfect, before her. Behind her a shut door. About her Emptiness. “--and God?” Sudden her eyes were hard. “Think of him,” she spoke. Her mouth full of tears made her voice liquid. “Think of him. Think of him, Fanny. No one else!... Your Light-bearer, your Prophet, your Voice in the Wilderness--there he is, out there, in the arms of Thelma.... Fanny, dare to think.” She was still. She was a little woman huddled in the Dark with hard eyes, daring to think. Daring to see!