darkness raged the death from which he had snatched her by a miracle.
Beyond--a million miles away--the world whose claim had loosened on them
was going through its routine of lies and love, of hypocrisies and
heroisms. But here were just they two, flung back to the primordial type
by the fierce battle for existence that had encompassed them--Adam and Eve
in the garden, one to one, all else forgot, all other ties and obligations
for the moment obliterated. Had they not struggled, heart beating against
heart, with the breath of death icing them, and come out alive? Was their
world not contracted to a space ten feet by twelve, shut in from every
other planet by an illimitable stretch of storm?

"Where should I have been if you had not found me?" she murmured, her
haunting eyes fixed on the flames.

"But I should have found you--no matter where you had been, I should have
found you."

The words seemed to leap from him of themselves. He was sure he had not
meant to speak them, to voice so soon the claim that seemed to him so
natural and reasonable.

She considered his words and found delight in acquiescing at once. The
unconscious demand for life, for love, of her starved soul had never been
gratified. But he had come to her through that fearful valley of death,
because he must, because it had always been meant he should.

Her lustrous eyes, big with faith, looked up and met his.

The far, wise voices of the world were storm-deadened. They cried no
warning to these drifting hearts. How should they know in that moment when