“What could we not have done?” she repeated slowly.  “I’ve done so little—­in the world—­alone.”

Something in her tone caught his ear, his senses, overstrung, vibrating in exquisite susceptibility, capable almost of hearing thought that dared not be thought.  He turned his blackened face, bent toward her, looking into her face with an intensity which almost annihilated the human limitations of flesh and blood.  It was as though his soul heard something in hers, and turned to answer it, to demand its repetition.

“Did you say, could have done?” he demanded.  “Tell me, did you say that?”

She did not answer, and he went on.  “Listen!” he said in his old, imperious way.  “What couldn’t we do together an the world, for the world—­even now?”

For a long time there was silence.  At last, a light hand fell upon the brown and blistered one which he had thrust out.

“Do you think so?” he heard a gentle voice reply.