Am I not right ?" She leaned back in her corner of the cab, shut her eyes, said no more--and all but ceased to think.

What was there to say?
What was there to think?
When Fate ceases to tolerate our pleasant delusion of free will, when it openly and firmly seizes us and hurries us along, we do not discuss or comment.

We close our minds, relax and submit.
At the parsonage he sprang out, stood by to help her descend, half-dragged her from the cab when she hesitated.

He shouted at the driver: "How much do I owe you, friend ?" "Six dollars, sir." "Not on your life!" shouted Craig furiously.

He turned to Margaret, standing beside him in a daze.