"Why wouldn't you let me die ?" He looked full at her.

She vibrated like a winged creature on the verge of taking flight.

But her eyes--her eyes sought his with a strange assurance, as though they saw in him a comrade.
"Why did you make me live when I wanted to die ?" she insisted.

"Is life so desirable?
Have you found it so ?" His brows contracted at the last question, even while his mouth curved cynically.

"Some people find it so," he said.
"But you ?" she said, and there was almost accusation in her voice, "Have the gods been kind to you?
Or have they thrown you the dregs--just the dregs ?" The passionate note in the words, subdued though it was, was not to be mistaken.