"On the contrary, it's good, I think. Nevertheless, I'll have to break it to her gently. And with your permission, I will, now."
A look at Clytie, and she walked off with him up toward the summit of the mountain.
"What can it be, Francis?" she exclaimed. "I'm all at sea. But of course I understood from what you said that it was, somehow, all right."
"Clytie," he said, "it is all right—we've passed the last obstacle, I think. But it's hard to know how to tell you. If you'll let me tell it my way, I'll say that, of all the women I have ever known in my life, the two whom I have loved best were—"
"Me—and—?" She held his hand tightly.
"You and your mother."
She seemed to be in no way surprised, new as the thought was to her. It only struck her dumb for a while. Then she said:
"I must telephone to father at once. Oh, I must reassure him!"
"Shall we go back?" he asked.
She stood for a moment deliberating. Then she put her arm in his. "I've seen the stars and moon," she said, "I've seen the lightning, I've seen the false dawn. Let's stay, now, and see the sunrise!"