He knew--quite suddenly he knew--what he
would do. The temptation and the anguish went out together like an
extinguished fire. He was his own master.
He bent to her and spoke, his words clear above the tumult: "Help
me to save him! There is just a chance!"
He saw the swift change in her eyes. She bent with a sharp
movement, and before he could stop her he felt her lips upon his
hand. They thrilled him with a strange exaltation. The memory of
that kiss would go with him to the very Gate of Death.
Then he had reached Guy, was bending over him, raising him with
urgent hands. He saw the boy's face for a moment, ashen in the
flickering candlelight, and he knew that the task before him was
one which it would take his utmost strength to accomplish. But he
exerted it and dragged him to his feet, half-supporting,
half-carrying, him towards the open door, Sylvia helping on the
other side. The thought went through him that this was the last
act that they would perform in partnership. And somehow he knew
that she would remember it later in the same way.
They reached the threshold. Guy was stumbling blindly. He seemed
to be dazed, scarcely conscious of his surroundings. The turmoil
of the water was terrific through the ceaseless rush of the rain.
With heads bent to the storm they forced their way out into the
tumult.
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