Then,
stirred by what impulse, moved by what instinct, it was
impossible to say, he let them drop to his sides again.
"Come!" he said. "Come! This is the way. Keep close to me.
Put your hand on my arm."
He spoke quietly, but his eyes were resolutely averted from
her face as they crossed the dim, silent court.
Entering the gloomy door-way that led to his own rooms, he
felt her fingers tremble on his arm, then tighten in their
pressure as the bare passage and cheerless stairs met her
view; but he set his lips.
"Come!" he repeated, in the same strained voice. "Come! It
isn't far--three or four flights."
With a white face and a curious expression in her eyes, Eve
moved forward. She had released Loder's arm as they crossed
the hall; and now, reaching the stairs, she put out her hand
gropingly and caught the banister. She had a pained, numb
sense of submission--of suffering that had sunk to apathy.
Moving forward without resistance, she began to mount the
stairs.
The ascent was made in silence.
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