So tense had been her strain that the words were mere meaningless blows that left her quivering.

He thought she had not heard.
"Would you mind my pipe--and this very mild mixture ?" She blessed him for the respite.
"Smoke, of course!" she managed to say.
She watched him closely, still alert, as he stuffed the tobacco into his pipe-bowl from a rubber pouch.

Then he struck the match and in that moment she suffered another shock.

The little flame danced out of the darkness, and wavering, upward shadows played over a face of utter quietness.

The relaxed shoulders drooped sideways in the chair, the body placidly sprawled, one crossed leg gently waving.