Loder went first, his
shoulders braced, his head held erect; Eve, mechanically
watchful of all his movements, followed a step or two behind.
With weary monotony one flight of stairs succeeded another;
each, to her unaccustomed eyes, seeming more colorless, more
solitary, more desolate than the preceding one.
Then at last, with a sinking sense of apprehension, she
realized that their goal was reached.
The knowledge broke sharply through her dulled senses; and,
confronted by the closeness of her ordeal, she paused, her
head lifted, her hand still nervously grasping the banister.
Her lips parted as if in sudden demand for aid; but in the
nervous expectation, the pained apprehension, of the moment no
sound escaped them. Loder, resolutely crossing the landing,
knew nothing of the silent appeal.
For a second she stood hesitating; then her own weakness, her
own shrinking dismay, were submerged in the interest of his
movements. Slowly mounting the remaining steps, she followed
him as if fascinated towards the door that showed dingily
conspicuous in the light of an unshaded gas-jet.
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