And here she was returning.
In that brief interval her face and manner had again changed.

Her face was pale and quite breathless.

She cast a swift glance at Dunn and the paper he mechanically held out, walked up to him, and tore it from his hand.
"Well," she said hoarsely, "what are you going to do about it ?" He attempted to speak, but his voice failed him.

Even then he was conscious that if he had spoken he would have only repeated, "think sometimes of Teresa." He looked longingly but helplessly at the spot where she had thrown the paper, as if it had contained his unuttered words.
"Yes," she went on to herself, as if he was a mute, indifferent spectator--"yes, they're gone.

That ends it all.