Enoch's voice was troubled. "I have been so curiously lonely! You can have no idea of what the diary has meant to me."
"I won't ask you for it, Enoch!" exclaimed Diana. Suddenly she leaned forward in the moonlight and kissed him softly on the lips.
Enoch drew her to him and kissed her fiercely. "The diary! It is yours, Diana, yours in a thousand ways. When you read it, you will understand why I hesitated to give it to you."
"I'll find some way to thank you," breathed Diana.
"I know a way. Give me some of your desert photographs. Choose those that you think tell the most. And don't forget Death and the Navajo."
"Oh, Enoch! What a splendid suggestion! You've no idea how I shall enjoy making the collection for you. It will take several months to complete it, you know."
"Don't wait to complete the collection. Send the prints one at a time, as you finish them. Send them to my house, not my office."
Soft voices sounded from the camping place. "We must go back," said
Diana.
"Another evening gone, forever," said Enoch. "How many more have we,
Diana?"
"Three or four. One never knows, in the Canyon country."