She called him back in a hard voice.
'Colin--I've left my keys,'-- pointing to a sealed and addressed envelope on her own writing-table.

'There are a few things of value--some you have given me--in the drawers.' 'I will take care of them,' he answered hoarsely.
They stood fronting each other, and their eyes both smarting, agonised, stared at each other out of the pale drawn faces.
'Colin,' she said; and held out her hands.

'Aren't you going to say good-bye ?' He took her hands; his burning look met hers for an instant and dropped.

There was always the poisonous wall which their soul's vision might not pierce--through which their yearning lips might not touch.
For an instant too, the hardness of his face was broken by a spasm of emotion.

The grip of his hands on hers was like that of a steel vice; she winced at the pain of it.