“Yes,” said the girl with some hesitation, “but really you must not
Prokop tried to muster a supplicatory smile. His heavy scared face suddenly grew beautiful. “Leave it to me,” he said quietly, “it’s . . . for you.”
The girl blinked her eyes; a sharp feeling had suddenly driven her nearly to tears. She inclined her head silently and gave him her hand. He raised his shapeless left hand. She looked at him interrogatively and pressed it warmly. “Thank you so much,” she said quickly, “good-bye!”
In the doorway she stopped as if she wished to say something. Twisting the handle, she waited.
“Am I to . . . to convey any greeting to him?” asked Prokop with a wry smile.
“No,” she said quietly and gave him a quick glance. “Au revoir.”
The door closer behind her. Prokop looked after her and suddenly he felt mortally heavy and weak, his head began to swim, and it cost him an immense effort to take a single step.
