[p171]
“… That no life lives forever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.”
Guinevere repeated the words softly to herself, and wondered what they meant. She was still thinking about them when a dim red light in the distance told her they were approaching the Cove. She slipped off the heavy overcoat and began to put on her gloves.
“Hello! we are getting in, are we?” asked Hinton, shaking himself into an upright position. “Is that Cove City where the big red light bores into the water like a corkscrew?”
They moved to the bow of the boat and watched as it changed its course and made for the opposite shore.
“Did you mean,” said Guinevere, absently, “that you wanted it all to end like that? For us to just go out into nothing, like the river gets lost in the ocean?”
Hinton glanced at her in surprise, and [p172] discovered that there was an unusually thoughtful face under the sweeping brim of the red hat. The fact that she was pretty was less evident to him than the fact that she was wistful. His mood was sensitive to minor chords.
“I guess you are eighteen,” he said, and he smiled, and Guinevere smiled back, and the chubby gentleman, coming suddenly out upon them, went in again and slammed the door.