"You've put it into words," she said, "but I've felt it."
He looked at her with dull foreboding. He had expected contradiction, not acquiescence.
"Come," he said, rising and catching up the boat-cushion. "It's chilly here in the boat. Why did we come under these wet trees? Let's land, and go and sit in what's left of the sunset there."
"You're not calmly confronting your fate," she said, smiling dimly.
"Come." He held out his hand.
She took it and laid her cheek against it.
"I'll come with you," she said, "into the light or into the dark."
"Child, child, what have I done to you?"
He dropped the cushion in the bottom of the boat. She clung to him. He wavered, the boat rocked violently.
"Be careful, it's deep here," she said, and drew him down on the cushion at her feet.