"
"Oh yes, and you told me you didn't know--that I was to see for
myself. We've said little about it since, even in so long a time."
"Precisely," Marcher interposed--"quite as if it were too delicate
a matter for us to make free with. Quite as if we might find, on
pressure, that I AM afraid. For then," he said, "we shouldn't,
should we? quite know what to do."
She had for the time no answer to this question. "There have been
days when I thought you were. Only, of course," she added, "there
have been days when we have thought almost anything."
"Everything. Oh!" Marcher softly groaned, as with a gasp, half
spent, at the face, more uncovered just then than it had been for a
long while, of the imagination always with them. It had always had
it's incalculable moments of glaring out, quite as with the very
eyes of the very Beast, and, used as he was to them, they could
still draw from him the tribute of a sigh that rose from the depths
of his being. All they had thought, first and last, rolled over
him; the past seemed to have been reduced to mere barren
speculation.
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