"But, the work!" she murmured. "We are only just beginning. I wish--
oh, I shall miss it dreadfully."

"'It,'" said Spence, "is not a personal pronoun."

"I shall miss you, too, of course."

"Well, be careful not to overemphasize it."

Her grey eyes looked frankly and straightly into his. Their clear
depths held a rueful smile. "You are conceited enough already," she
said, "but if it will make you feel any better, I don't mind
admitting that I shall miss you far, far more than you deserve."

"Spoken like a lady!" said Spence warmly. "And now let us consider
my side of it. After the month that I have spent here--do you really
think that I intend to go away--like that?"

"There is only one way of going, isn't there?"

"Not at all. There are various ways. Ways which are quite, quite
different."

"You have thought of some other--some quite different way?"

"Yes. But I daren't tell it to you while you sit on that slippery
rock. It is a somewhat startling way and you might--er--manifest
emotion. I should prefer to have you manifest it in a less dangerous
place."