"And leave Father John?"
"Yes, for you. But I think—sometime—he will come to us."
Her fingers touched his cheek.
"And there must be forests, big, beautiful forests, in some other part of the world, Roger."
"Or a desert, where they would never think of looking for us," he laughed happily.
"I'd love the desert, Roger."
"Or an uninhabited island?"
Against him her head nodded again.
"I'd love life anywhere—with you."
"Then—we'll go," he said, trying to speak very calmly in spite of the joy that was consuming him like a fire. And then he went on, steadying his voice until it was almost cold. "But it means giving up everything you've dreamed of, Nada—these forests you love, Father John, Yellow Bird, Sun Cloud—"