But he looked at the expectant face beside him and faltered.

Mary would not die alone.

With her would die this newborn comradeship.

And Desire's smile, though insufferable, was sweet.

How would it feel to see that bright look change and pale to cold dislike?
Already in imagination he shivered under the frozen anger of that frank glance.
He could not risk it! Should he then, ignoring Mary, ascribe his symptoms to their true cause?
By dragging out the horror of that moonlit night, he could account for any vagary of nerves.