They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. He envied her a little. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know. It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. He laughed reassuringly.
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