ful here."

Tesla, flabby-eyed and almost maliciously polite, as if he would expose
the innate absurdity of politeness, tipped over a water glass in his
floppings. Anna, still alive with the joyousness that had come to her,
seated herself beside her husband. Her hand rested eagerly on his arm.
He must love her ... must. Must. It had been only a nightmare she'd
invented. Oh, God, did anything matter as long as they loved each other?

"Tired, dearest?"

He looked at her and tried to lighten his eyes.

"Yes, a little. The damned war."

"I'm so sorry."

She mustn't ask him to dance. He was tired. She would coddle him. He was
only a baby--tired, sleepy, sad. She must ask no questions. Only love.
Before her love the darkness of his face would clear away as before
sunshine.

"I'm so happy, Erik darling!"

Her fingers quivered on his arm. He looked at her and smiled out of
misty eyes. Of all the unbearable things in an unbearable world her
happiness was the most unbearable. She nodded, as if she understood. Her
pretense of understanding was a ghastly business. But Anna smiled. Poor
Erik, he was only a boy. If only they were alone! If Eddie and Tesla and
the whole world would go away and leave her with him, to kiss his eyes
and stroke his hair. Sleep, baby, sleep.... What a crazy, wild thing,
thinking that Erik no longer loved her. No longer loved her! Dear God,
she was only a part of him. He must love her.... Must!

The talk kept on--words bubbling from Tesla, Eddie frisking with
laughter.

"You must dance with me, Erik. It's been so long since we danced."
There--she shouldn't have asked. She didn't mean to. Her eyes
apologized. When he answered, "No, I'm tired," there was wine from a
glass that warmed the little coldness his words dropped into her.

Listening to her, answering with words he tried to soften and make
alive, Dorn tried to occupy himself with the details of the scene again.
Could he keep on living as two persons--one of them turning over and
over in a fire that consumed him--and the other making phrases,
gestures, as if there were no fire consuming him? If he kept his eyes
working, perhaps. He hated Anna. But that was because he couldn't bear
the thought of her suffering. He hated her because he must be kind to
her.

Meredith was ordering the dinner. Dorn stared out over the room.

Anna was watching him with her senses. Why didn't he speak to her as
Eddie did? Perhaps he was going mad. His eyes su