And he would tell her, it would help, though she would not understand. But he would never tell her of his writing, that was too important.
“I see light behind the trees.”
“We are getting there. This must be near the top of the hill, and you are not a bit out of breath.”
“My! an’ here we are. Is that your view? I don’t see much in it, not that it isn’t very pretty though.”
“Shall we sit down?”
“Yes.”
She lets go of his hand and they sit down.
“June, give me back your hand, it makes you so much more real.”
“There it is, silly.”
“And what do you see of my view?”