"Everybody's got to lean on his own strength, sooner or later," he told
her with a touch of grimness.

"You just won't be romantic!" she cried admiringly.

"I really love you, Marise," he answered profoundly; and on this
rock-like assurance she sank down with a long breath of trust.

* * * * *

The sun was dipping into the sea now, emblazoning the sky with a last
flaming half-circle of pure color, but the light had left the dusky
edges of the world. Already the far mountains were dimmed, and the
plain, passing from one deep twilight color to another more somber, was
quietly sinking into darkness as into the strong loving arms of ultimate
dissolution.

The girl spoke in a dreamy twilight tone, "Neale dear, this is not a
romantic idea . . . honestly, I do wish we could both die right here and
never go down to the plain any more. Don't you feel that? Not at all?"

His voice rang out, resonant and harsh as a bugle-note, "No, I do not,
not at all, not for a single moment. I've too much ahead of me to feel
that. And so have you!"

"There comes the cable-car, climbing up to get us," she said faintly.
"And we will go down from this high place of safety into that dark
plain, and we will have to cross it, painfully, step by step. _Dare_ you
promise me we will not lose our way?" she challenged him.