I don't focus it. I can't name it. I only know I'm exposed."
"Yes, but exposed--how shall I say?--so directly. So intimately.
That's surely enough."
"Enough to make you feel then--as what we may call the end and the
upshot of our watch--that I'm not afraid?"
"You're not afraid. But it isn't," she said, "the end of our
watch. That is it isn't the end of yours. You've everything still
to see."
"Then why haven't you?" he asked. He had had, all along, to-day,
the sense of her keeping something back, and he still had it. As
this was his first impression of that it quite made a date. The
case was the more marked as she didn't at first answer; which in
turn made him go on. "You know something I don't." Then his
voice, for that of a man of courage, trembled a little. "You know
what's to happen." Her silence, with the face she showed, was
almost a confession--it made him sure. "You know, and you're
afraid to tell me. It's so bad that you're afraid I'll find out."
All this might be true, for she did look as if, unexpectedly to
her, he had crossed some mystic line that she had secretly drawn
round her.
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