The action was purely mechanical.

He had to perform it, whether he would or no.
"Don't speak," he whispered to Julian in the darkness.

"Don't speak, whatever happens, till I ask you to speak." "Why ?" "Don't; don't!" "All right." They sat still.
And now the horror that had possessed Valentine so utterly began to fade away, making its exit from his body and soul with infinitesimally small steps.

At length it had quite gone, and its place was taken by a numb calm, level and still at first, then curiously definite, almost too definite to be calm at all.

Gradually this calm withdrew into exhaustion, an exhaustion such as dwells incessantly with the anemic, with those whose hearts beat feebly and whose vitality flickers low to fading.