"We're together, darling," he whispered back.
She was silent for a brief while. Then she whispered, "Have ye no
children?"
"None," he replied. "Marie has no wish to spoil her figure."
For some reason this seemed to dispel both Deborah's jealousy and
guilt. She held him closer still and murmured, "Poor Darling Charles.
No wonder ye dreamt of other women."
"No wonder ..." he replied, scarcely knowing what he said. For at that
moment sleep crept over him irresistibly.
Once again he was in the extinct odd little train, emerging from the
choking tunnel. Miraculously, rumpled nightgown and all, Deborah was
with him. Her blue eyes were red with smoke and she was coughing and
frightened. She managed to gasp, "What is it--what is this horrid
thing?"