For a while she lay there, watching him, scarcely breathing; then a faint shiver of utter loneliness came over her--of desire for his attention, his voice, his friendship, and the expression of it.

But he never moved; his eyes seemed dull and unseeing; his face strangely gaunt to her, unfamiliar, hard.

In the dim light he seemed but the ghost of what she had known, of what she had thought him--a phantom, growing vaguer, more unreal, slipping away from her through the fading light.

And the impulse to arouse herself and him from the dim danger--to arrest the spell, to break it, and seize what was their own in life overwhelmed her; and she sat up, grasping the great arms of her chair, slender, straight, white-faced in the gloom.
But he did not stir.

Then unreasoning, instinctive fear confused her, and she heard her own voice, sounding strangely in the twilight: "What has come between us, Captain Selwyn?
What has happened to us?
Something is all wrong, and I--I ask you what it is, because I don't know.