I have been lying awake thinking
of it all no end of times."
He made a movement with his other arm as if restraining himself from
shaking an indignant fist at the universe; and she never even attempted
to look at him. His voice sounded strangely, incredibly lifeless in
comparison with these tempestuous accents that in the broad fields, in
the dark garden had seemed to shake the very earth under her weary and
hopeless feet.
She regretted them. Hearing the sigh which escaped her Anthony instead
of shaking his fist at the universe began to pat her hand resting on his
arm and then desisted, suddenly, as though he had burnt himself. Then
after a silence:
"You will have to go by yourself to-morrow. I . . . No, I think I
mustn't come. Better not. What you two will have to say to each other--"
She interrupted him quickly:
"Father is an innocent man. He was cruelly wronged."
"Yes. That's why," Anthony insisted earnestly. "And you are the only
human being that can make it up to him. You alone must reconcile him
with the world if anything can. But of course you shall.
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