The afternoon had passed now into twilight. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. "Mutual concessions," she added. It was the bitterest moment of her life. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. For a space he rode the whirligig. We haven’t. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest.
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