He did not wish that part of him to die utterly in her with his doomed frame.
"But—" she shivered, "all this talk of graves and the dead?"
"It is all of the sun and the living," he replied earnestly. "You must face the sun with me to-day. Will you?"
"Yes! Yes! But last night you made me afraid. Was it the dark,—did you get afraid of the dark? I know what that means."
"Perhaps," he answered gently. "But if so, it was because I was foolish enough to let it be dark. And you yourself must never do it again. If things get bad at night you must wait until morning and then come out here. So, if you remember what I have said, it will get light again. Will you promise to do that?"
"Yes."
"I 'd like to make this day one that we 'll both remember forever. I 'd like to make it one that we can always turn back to."
"Yes."
"Perhaps after to-day we 'll neither of us be afraid of the dark again."
"I 'm not afraid now."