As the door closed behind him those two were standing side by side, looking at that door--looking at it in a waiting, second-counting, but deeply grateful kind of way.

And the instant it closed they flung their arms about each other's necks, and there, heart to heart and lip to lip-- "Oh, my God, she's kissing it!" Nobody heard this remark, because Hawkins, who bred it, only thought it, he didn't utter it.

He had turned, the moment he had closed the door, and had pushed it open a little, intending to re-enter and ask what ill-advised thing he had done or said, and apologize for it.

But he didn't re-enter; he staggered off stunned, terrified, distressed..