t he persuaded her into a broken statement, beautiful to him, charged
with extreme excitement as she spoke of the dark red fire, and the smoke
twined round it, making him feel that he had stepped over the threshold
into the faintly lit vastness of another mind, stirring with shapes,
so large, so dim, unveiling themselves only in flashes, and moving away
again into the darkness, engulfed by it. They had walked by this time
to the street in which Mary lived, and being engrossed by what they said
and partly saw, passed her staircase without looking up. At this time
of night there was no traffic and scarcely any foot-passengers, so that
they could pace slowly without interruption, arm-in-arm, raising their
hands now and then to draw something upon the vast blue curtain of the
sky.

They brought themselves by these means, acting on a mood of profound
happiness, to a state of clear-sightedness where the lifting of a finger
had effect, and one word spoke more than a sentence. They lapsed gently
into silence, traveling the dark paths of thought side by side towards
something discerned in the distance which gradually possessed them both.
They were victors, masters of life, but at the same time absorbed in the
flame, giving their life to increase its brightness, to testify to their
faith. Thus they had walked, perhaps, twice or three times up and down
Mary Datchet's street before the recurrence of a light burning behind a
thin, yellow blind caused them to stop without exactly knowing why they
did so. It burned itself into their minds.

"That is the light in Mary's room," said Ralph. "She must be at home."
He pointed across the street. Katharine's eyes rested there too.

"Is she alone, working at this time of night? What is she working at?"
she wondered. "Why should we interrupt her?" she asked passionately.
"What have we got to give her? She's happy too," she added. "She has
her work." Her voice shook slightly, and the light swam like an ocean of
gold behind her tears.

"You don't want me to go to her?" Ralph asked.

"Go, if you like; tell her what you like," she replied.

He crossed the road immediately, and went up the steps into Mary's
house. Katharine stood where he left her, looking at the window and
expecting soon to see a shadow move across it; but she saw nothing; the
blinds conveyed nothing; the light was not moved. It signaled to her
across the dark street; it was a sign of triumph shining there for
ever, not to b