Does one hear of any surviving?
Out of this warm life into silence--" He paused and shivered.

"Very likely they did not guess for a long while.

Look, Mademoiselle, at the Fosse Way, stretching yonder across the hills: figure yourself a daughter of the old Roman homestead standing here and watching the little cloud of dust that meant the retreating column, the last of your protection.

You would not guess what it meant--you, to whom each day has brought its restful round; who have lived only to be good and reflect the sunshine upon all near you.

And I--your slave, suppose me, standing beside you--might guess as little." He took a step and touched her hand.