Indeed, my thoughts found inward voice before the subject was dismissed from my mind: "One becomes accustomed to anything--even a shroud!" But the thought was followed by a submerging wave of pity that she should have had such a dreadful experience.
By-and-by we seemed both to forget everything--I know I did--except that we were man and woman, and close together.

The strangeness of the situation and the circumstances did not seem of moment--not worth even a passing thought.

We still sat apart and said little, if anything.

I cannot recall a single word that either of us spoke whilst we sat before the fire, but other language than speech came into play; the eyes told their own story, as eyes can do, and more eloquently than lips whilst exercising their function of speech.

Question and answer followed each other in this satisfying language, and with an unspeakable rapture I began to realize that my affection was returned.