"Yes--yes"--perhaps it was the coming separation between the two that
made her voice quaver so sympathetically--"the Infinite always comes
back for us. But we don't always remember that it will! This is such
a little bit of the great sea. Maybe it never was left alone before;
maybe it doesn't know how surely the waters that left it behind will
come back for it this evening. Maybe it's--it's lonesome. I--I think
I know how it feels."

"And I," he said.

"Next time you feel that way will you remember this brown rock and the
tide that is so surely coming back tonight?" she asked.

"Indeed I will," he told her.

"And so will I," she went on. "And I'll try to remember, too, that
perhaps it was put here for us to see and think of when we need
encouragement--just as, I dare say, we are left behind, sometimes, so
that other lonely folk may see us and be reminded that----" She
stopped.

"That what?" he asked.

"Why!" she cried, "it's the Secret! The more you live, the more
everything helps you to believe the Secret and to feel the brotherhood
it brings."

He looked guilty. "I don't deserve to know the Secret," he said,
"after last night. But----"