He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. In her turn she had been shocked by his appearance, worn, his ruddy firm-fleshed face riven with lines. “I thought I was never going to get a word with you,” he said. “This is the first moment I’ve had. How are you?” She asserted her well-being, and he studied her face with anxious eyes. “Dear Anne,” he murmured, and lifting her hand, pressed it to his lips. The two hands remained together, the woman’s upcurled inside the man’s enveloping grasp. “That faint feeling last night, I suppose that will bleach you out for a while?” “Oh, I’m all over that. It was a crazy thing for me to do, going down and then knocking the lamp over. They didn’t think anything of it, did they?” “Anything of it? Why no, what would they think? You explained it to them and they were satisfied with what you said. And afterward I told Williams that he could absolutely trust your word.” “I gave a great deal of trouble and----” Her voice was husky and she cleared her throat. He was worried by the coldness of her hand and sought to warm it by enclosing it more tightly in his. After a moment she went on: “I suppose you can’t tell me anything--anything of what they’re doing?” “No. It’s all a mess so far--feeling about in the dark--nothing sure.” “But they must be feeling about after some one?” “Darling, what’s the good of talking about it? It’s only going round and round the same subject like a squirrel in a cage. We don’t get many minutes together and we don’t want to spoil them. Let’s try to forget just while we’re here.” “Forget!” she exclaimed. “Nothing would make me do that but being dead myself.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and drew her hand from his to clasp it round his arm. He said nothing for a moment, perturbed by her words and tone. He had thought of getting her away, having her moved to Hayworth. Now he felt he must do it at once, the shadow of the tragedy was too dark on her spirit. “I’ve got to get her out of here if I go to jail for it,” he said to himself. “She can’t stand much more of this.” She too was silent for a space, stilled by the attack of a sudden temptation. His tenderness had weakened her, the gulf between them seemed too much to bear when the way was so perilous to travel alone. She wanted to be close to him again, break down the barriers and extend her arms to him for succor and support. He would calm the upwellings of terror that rose in her, perhaps have some man’s solution for her desperate problem. The desire to tell him gripped her, undermined her will like a disintegrating drug. She did not dare to broach it suddenly, sense enough remained in her to go carefully, step by step. “I wonder if any one here _does_ know something and is keeping it back.” “It may be--too frightened to speak.” “Well, if they did--I mean something that looks suspicious, might be a help--they’d be expected to tell, wouldn’t they?”