A few tears gathered in her eyes, and dropped over her cheeks slowly as she paused and waited for his answer. He did not utter a word. At the beginning of her reply he had moved the hand on which his head rested, so that it hid his face. I saw nothing but the upper part of his figure at the table. Not a muscle of him moved. The fingers of the hand which supported his head were dented deep in his hair. They might have expressed hidden anger or hidden grief⁠—it was hard to say which⁠—there was no significant trembling in them. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to tell the secret of his thoughts at that moment⁠—the moment which was the crisis of his life and the crisis of hers.

I was determined to make him declare himself, for Laura’s sake.