“Ah, splendid!” she said. “If one could only hit the trail for ever without being obliged to arrive at a destination, and take up the burdens of a stationary life!”
Stonor pondered on this answer. It sounded almost as if she dreaded coming to the end of her journey.
Out of the breathless dusk came a long-drawn and inexpressibly mournful ululation. Clare involuntarily drew a little closer to Stonor. Ah, but it was hard to keep from seizing her then!
“Wolves?” she asked in an awe-struck tone.
He shook his head. “Only the wolf’s little mongrel brother, coyote,” he said.
“All my travelling has been done in the mountains,” she explained. She shivered delicately. “The first night out is always a little terrible, isn’t it?”
“You’re not afraid?” he asked anxiously.
“Not exactly afraid. Just a little quivery.”
She got up, and he held up the mosquito-netting for her to pass. Outside they instinctively lifted up their faces to the pale stars.
“It’s safer and cleaner than a city,” said Stonor simply.