"And I am grateful." Roland keeps rubbing her back, studying her face. He won't rub her tears away, not these; some tears need to be shed. He ducks his head to run the back of a hand over one cheek before looking back up at her. It seems his own tears aren't all shed yet either, and that's all right.

As he looks at her Roland thinks of tears, and death, and tries to think of how much death Susannah's faced here without him. How many times has she faced her own? Faced her own, and fallen through it? His hand drops from her back, wraps around her fingers. "Are you all right, Susannah? I know I've come too late to truly help, but I know... Jake... Jake had trouble with. With his death. Remembering it."