"Doesn't he prove that by his very existence?" "Your Doctor would deny that." "Doctor Carl never saw _him_, Nick. And anyway, even oblivion together would be better than being separated, and far better than this!" He gazed at her silently. She spoke again. "That doesn't frighten me, Nick. It's only losing you that frightens me, especially the fear of losing you to _him_." He continued his silent gaze. Suddenly he drew her close to him, held her in a tight, tender embrace. 28 Lunar Omen After a considerable interval, during which Nick held the girl tightly and silently in his arms, he released her, sat with his head resting on his cupped palms in an attitude of deep study. Pat, beside him, fell mechanically to repinning the throat of her frock, which had opened during the moments of the embrace. He rose to his feet, pacing nervously before her. "It isn't a thing to do on the impulse of a moment, Pat," he muttered, pausing at her side. "You must see that." "It isn't the impulse of a moment." "But one doesn't abandon everything, the whole world, so easily, Honey. One doesn't cast away a last hope, however forlorn a hope it may be!" "Is there a hope, Nick?" she asked gently. "Is there a chance left to us?" "I don't know!" His voice held an increasing tenseness. "Before God--I--don't know!" "If there's a chance, the very slightest shadow of the specter of a chance, we'll take it, won't we? Because the other way is always open to us, Nick." "Yes. It's always open." "But we won't take that chance," she continued defiantly, "if it involves my losing you, Honey. I meant what I said, Nick: I don't want to live without you!" "What chance have we?" he queried somberly. "Those are our alternatives--life apart, death together." "Then you know my choice!" she cried desperately. "Nick, Honey--don't let's draw it out in futile talking! I can't stand it!" He moved his hand in a gesture of bewilderment and frustration, and turned away, striding nervously toward the window whose blind she had raised. He leaned his hands on the table, peering dejectedly out upon the street below. "What time," he asked irrelevantly in a queer voice, "did the Doctor say the moon rose? Do you remember?" "No," she said tensely. "Oh, Honey! Please--don't stand there with your back to me now, when I'm half crazy!" "I'm thinking," he responded. "It rises a little earlier each night--or is it later? No matter; come here, Pat." She rose wearily and joined him; he slipped his arm about her, and drew her against him. "Look there," he said, indicating the night-dark vista beyond the window.