"You shoot, of course? No? Well, I'll soon teach you. Lots of things
both of us have got to learn now. No end of them!"

He rose from his place on the floor, went over to the window and stood
for a minute peering out into the gloom. Then suddenly he turned.

"What's the matter with me, anyhow?" he exclaimed with irritation.
"What right have I to be staying here, theorizing, when there's work
to do? I ought to be busy this very minute!

"In some way or other I've got to find food, clothing, tools, arms--a
thousand things. And above all, water! And here I've been speculating
about the past, fool that I am!"

"You--you aren't going to leave me--not to-night?" faltered the girl.

Stern seemed not to have heard her, so strong the imperative of action
lay upon him now. He began to pace the floor, sliding and stumbling
through the rubbish, a singular figure in his tatters and with his
patriarchal hair and beard, a figure dimly seen by the faint light
that still gloomed through the window:

"In all that wreckage down below," said he, as though half to himself,
"in all that vast congeries of ruin which once was called New York,
surely enough must still remain intact for our small needs. Enough
till we can reach the land, the country, and raise food of our own!"

"Don't go _now!_" pleaded Beatrice. She, too, stood up, and out she
stretched her hands to him. "Don't, please! We can get along some way
or other till morning. At least, _I_ can!"