She clasped her bare hands on her horse's neck, sitting with bent head as though lost in sombre memories.
"What ends forever might endure forever," I said.
"Not our rides together," she murmured. "You must return to the South one day. I must wed.... Where shall we be this day a year hence?"
"Very far apart, cousin."
"Will you remember this ride?"
"Yes," I said, troubled.
"I will, too.... And I shall wonder what you are doing."
"And I shall think of you," I said, soberly.
"Will you write?"
"Yes. Will you?"