It was like a laughing machine. And the silence of it gave
it a peculiar touch.
She wrestled with herself, driving down the despair that was on
her. Courage and love.
Again she leaned back without speaking, closing her eyes to shut out
the terror, and began desperately and resolutely to bend her will
again to the task.
Again a little sound disturbed her.
Once more he had shifted his position, and was looking straight at her
with a curious air of detached interest. His face looked almost
natural, though it was still flushed with that forced laughter; but
the mirth itself was gone. Then he spoke abruptly and sharply, in the
tone of a man who speaks to a tiresome child; and a little
conversation followed, in which she found herself taking a part, as in
an unnatural dream.
"You had better take care," he said.
"I am not afraid."
"Well--I have warned you. It is at your own risk. What are you doing?"
"I am praying."
"I thought so.... Well, you had better take care."
She nodded at him; closed her eyes once more with new confidence, and
set to work.
After that a series of little scenes followed, of which, a few days
later, she could only give a disconnected account.
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