They were silent then, there was no more to be said. For the story of each had been the story of the journey that ended in their meeting. Henceforth, for them, there would be one gleam, and they would follow it together.
They had been slipping past the shadow of Wanda Island and now came out once more into the gold of the sunlight. Algonquin lay before them buried in purpling woods. Away above the little town, beyond the circling forest, and beyond the hills shone the last gleam of the day. The Inverness was going straight up the track of the Sun.