Abruptly then he looked up, and met Peter's shadow-circled eyes.
"I was over-driving," he said. "I ought to have slowed down to pass him." He stood up, frowning down on the two in the road.
"We've got to think now," he said, "what to do about it."
To that thinking Peter offered no help and no hindrance. He sat in the road by the dead man and the bundle of wood, and looked vaguely on the remote morning that death had dimmed. Denis and death: Peter would have done a great deal to sever that incredible connection.
But it was, after all, for Denis to effect that severing, to cut himself loose from that oppressing and impossible weight.
He did so.
"I don't see," said Denis, "that we need ... that we can ... do anything about it."
Above the clear mountains the sun swung up triumphant, and the wide river valley was bathed in radiant gold.