Then the great clock on the distant tower, which had been silent through the night, resumed its deep and measured boom.

It struck six times.
There was silence again.

More and more taut grew his muscles, and suddenly it felt to him as though Deborah's fierce agony were pounding into his very soul.

The slow, slow minutes throbbed away.

At last he rose and left her.
There was a cold sweat on his brow.
"I'll go down and make her some coffee," he thought.
Down in the kitchen it was a relief to bang about hunting for the utensils.
On picnics up in the mountains his coffee had been famous.