"But your work—" "My work is finished." "I thought when I found my own, that it would be like this—everything pushed away for our being together—and now it has come.... Listen, I have hated her, when you found her so very beautiful—" The Hunchback turned with a smile to Romney. "Her rival," he whispered. "She means the old Mother China—" "She has taken you away from me—days and nights. I am terrible in waiting. You will go to her no more?" "No more," he answered. "Did she cast you out?" she asked softly. "Is it because she will not have you that you come back to me?" "Yes," he said. She thought he was carrying out her own whimsicality. "Fancy my rival turning you out! You would not have been called to one so bereft of reason and vision.... I know _you_! No one knows you as I do.... I knew something of you when Sir Romney first spoke your name. It was a call to me. Did I not answer it? Did I not come at once? ... And you—when I came—what a moment!—that look that flashed between us like light across the world.... And your hand as you said, ’Come in!’ ... your hand. It is the same now.... You are so powerful! Your touch brings me to the earth—" "It is for you," he said. "Is it not strange?" she was whispering. "All is changed in a day.... You know, in a way, it was Sir Romney who brought me you, and now he has come again bringing us our true life together.... I thought when I found the one, I should rise and compel all things. Instead I bowed and listened. You never knew how terrible it was to have you so lost in affairs—even of an Empire. But you have come home to me.... My thoughts are going away. Why is it? Closer to me—" Romney was nearer to them. The Hunchback’s left hand was thrust back. It closed upon his in an iron clasp, commanding silence and peace. There was an intensity of power in the long gray face—an expression of invincible conquest that to Romney was like the mastery which the men of the future are to know. He was holding pain from her by his force of will. The instant Romney realised this, it became actual. Her cheek was upon his shoulder now, her eyes like a drowsy child’s. Often she touched the face so close to hers, once with her lips. Once her eyes fixed for a moment on Romney’s. "Forgive me, my friend," she said with a smile, and added as if confident he would understand all: "The day is strange. I must be very happy.... You are a good omen, Sir Romney—" There seemed a certain wickedness, apart from time and motive, in the destruction of such beauty. "Oh, I know! I know now! ... You are putting me to sleep again—" "For our journey!" And then Romney heard: