Always, always, he stood alone,
whatever the moment might be, leaving her nothing to do--"playing his
own game with his own weapons," as he had once put it. Yet there was
strength in it too, and this came to her mind now, as though in excuse
for whatever else there was in the situation which, against her will,
repelled her.
"I am so sorry for you," she said at last.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"To lose all that has been yours so long."
This was their great moment. The response to this must be the touchstone
of their lives. A--half dozen words might alter all the future, might be
the watch word to the end of all things. Involuntarily her heart
fashioned the response he ought to give--"I shall have you left, Hylda."
The air seemed to grow oppressive, and the instant's silence a torture,
and, when he spoke, his words struck a chill to her heart--rough notes of
pain. "I have not lost yet," were his words.
She shrank. "You will not hide it. You will do right by--by him," she
said with difficulty.
"Let him establish his claim to the last item of fact," he said with
savage hate.
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