Northrup laughed aloud. He edged away from his isolation and said:
“Your doctor was a remarkable man. His memory lives in the Forest; it’s about the most vital thing here. It and all that preserves it.” His eyes rested upon Mary-Clare.
“Yes. He was wonderful. Lately he seems more alive than ever. He had such simple rules of life––but they work. He told me so often that when a trouble or anything like that came, there were but two ways to meet it. If it was going to kill you, die at your best. If it wasn’t, get over it at once; never waste time––live as soon as possible.” Was there a note of warning in the words?
“And you’re doing it?”
An understanding look passed between them.
“Yes, Mr. Northrup, for Noreen.”
Back went Northrup to his place with a dull thud! Then Mary-Clare hurried to a safer subject.
“I wish you would tell me about your book, Mr. Northrup. I have the strangest feeling about it. It seems like a new kind of flower growing in the Forest. I love flowers.”
Northrup looked down at his companion. Her bared head, her musing, radiant face excited and moved him. He had forgotten his book.