He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm. She stepped into his arms. “Yes, I know. Her lips were dry and cracked. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. Too late. Nevertheless, she could not prevent a rising excitement as the dawn of the new life drew near to her—a thrilling of the nerves, a secret and delicious exaltation above the common circumstances of existence. But here I am to draw upon. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. That is why I ask you. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis.
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