And now the darkness
began to distract him. He wanted light. He wanted to see Hermione, to
see which of the women in her faced him, which was listening to him.
"Hermione," he said, "I want you--I want--it's hateful speaking like
this, always in the darkness. Don't make me feel all the time that I
am holding you a prisoner. No, I can't--I won't bear that any more."
He moved suddenly from the doorway back into the room behind him, in
which there was a very little, very faint light. There he waited.
Almost immediately the tall shadow which had disappeared into the
darkness emerged from it, passed before him, and went into the central
chamber of the palace. He followed it, and found Hermione standing by
the great doorway that overlooked the sea. Hermione she was, no longer
a shadow, but the definite darkness of a human form relieved against
the clear but now moonless night. She was waiting. Surely she was
waiting for him. She might have escaped, but she stayed. She was
willing, then, to hear what he had to say, all he had to say.
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