"You were sleeping so soundly that I thought you were safe not to wake till morning; and it was a relief to let it down."
"Why apologise?" he asked, smiling. "What is it you are reading? Won't you share it with me? I feel hopelessly wide-awake."
"It would be delightful to read to you again," she said simply. "But you might prefer something lighter. I was reading—a sermon."
"I have no prejudice against sermons. We get few enough up here. What's your subject?"
"The Responsibility of Strength."
"Ah!—" There was pain in the low sound. "You must know a good deal about that form of responsibility,—you who are so superbly strong." And again she was grateful for her sheltering veil of hair. "The text is from Romans, I suppose?"
"Yes. 'We then that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak.'"
"It's a heavy penalty," he mused. "But one is bound to pay it to the uttermost farthing. Isn't that so?"
"Yes,—to the uttermost farthing."