They perched there without moving now, as if waiting for the sun to move and shine upon them. The emblem of purity – which had this shattering effect on Eve. It would have been better had she burst out crying, had she screamed, or shown the outward signs of hysteria; but apart from that one outburst, she didn’t make a sound. She just stood looking out – not at the portcullis, but at the two birds. Woburn broke a long, taut silence. “If you’d tell me what it is,” he said, “I might be able to help.” Slowly, she turned to face him. “What. . . what did you say?” “If you’ll tell me what it is,” Woburn repeated, “I might be able to help.” “I feel as if I were going mad,” she said. “As if I cannot stand it any longer. The worry, the suspicions, the fears, the dread.” She was talking to him, but in a low-pitched whisper. “It has gone on for so long. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t dream of this. How. . . how could I dream of it?” He said: “Tell me what’s frightening you, Eve?”
