Beyond the closed door the stage waited.

This was the briefest interlude before the moment of his triumphant entrance.
Sylvia smiled, an incredulous smile, and shook her head slowly, like a worn, tired mother whose patience is sorely taxed by a stubborn, unyielding child at her knee.

Her lips trembled, but she bent her head for a moment and then spoke more quickly than before, as though overriding some inner spirit that strove rebelliously within her breast.
"I know--almost all I ever need to know.

But there are some things you must tell me now.

This is the first--and the last--time that I shall ever speak to you of these things.