He sat down close to her side; and without looking at her, but still holding tightly that small clenched hand, he began speaking rapidly, emphatically, monotonously.

“Chris, there’s nothing about all this that I don’t know as well as you do ⁠ ⁠… nothing, my darling! It’s as if some crust were shattered for a moment and we looked through⁠ ⁠… into those horrors that are always there! It’s the same with us all, Chris! It’s the same with the whole world. There’s only one thing for us to do if we’re to endure life at all, Chris; and⁠ ⁠… and your father said the word himself before he died. Are you listening, Chris? He became conscious for a minute; and he said it to me like a message for you.⁠ ⁠… O Chris, little Chris, it was a message to both of us!”

She did not lift her head; but he knew, from the quiver in the fingers he held, that her attention was arrested.