Low, below the flood of steam and the grinding of the brakes came her
voice:
"Oh, if there was one _man_ here you couldn't do this! You couldn't do
this! You coward! You coward, oh, you coward!"
Anthony, silent, trembling himself, gripped her rigidly, aware that
faces, dozens of them, curiously unmoved, shadows of a dream, were
regarding him. Then the bells distilled metallic crashes that were like
physical pain, the smoke-stacks volleyed in slow acceleration at the
sky, and in a moment of noise and gray gaseous turbulence the line of
faces ran by, moved off, became indistinct--until suddenly there was
only the sun slanting east across the tracks and a volume of sound
decreasing far off like a train made out of tin thunder. He dropped her
arms. He had won.
Now, if he wished, he might laugh. The test was done and he had
sustained his will with violence. Let leniency walk in the wake
of victory.
"We'll hire a car here and drive back to Marietta," he said with fine
reserve.
For answer Gloria seized his hand with both of hers and raising it to
her mouth bit deeply into his thumb. He scarcely noticed the pain;
seeing the blood spurt he absent-mindedly drew out his handkerchief and
wrapped the wound.
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