Thank God the
night had passed almost away. At five he must go, and she would be
released. Then she could relax and fill her own place. Now she was
driven up against his perfect sleeping motion like a knife white-hot on
a grindstone. There was something monstrous about him, about his
juxtaposition against her.
The last hour was the longest. And yet, at last it passed. Her heart
leapt with relief--yes, there was the slow, strong stroke of the church
clock--at last, after this night of eternity. She waited to catch each
slow, fatal reverberation. 'Three--four--five!' There, it was finished.
A weight rolled off her.
She raised herself, leaned over him tenderly, and kissed him. She was
sad to wake him. After a few moments, she kissed him again. But he did
not stir. The darling, he was so deep in sleep! What a shame to take
him out of it. She let him lie a little longer. But he must go--he must
really go.
With full over-tenderness she took his face between her hands, and
kissed his eyes.
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