Twain's End - Pg 297

   A quiet descended. Isabel became aware of every little sound--a ticking somewhere in the bowels of the furnace, The King's slow breathing. As she strained to listen, she felt something else: the reaching out of another person to her, not by movement of his body but with is very will.
   Without speaking, she knew to take off her blindfold. Ralph was waiting for her, his brown eyes intense. Marry me, he mouthed.