“And you want to tempt him out of this to a world where he would be a wretched misfit,” accused the older woman.
“Do I? No; I think I don’t. I think I’d rather hold him in my mind as he is here: a happy eremite; no, a restrained pagan. Oh, it’s foolish to seek definitions for him. He isn’t definable. He’s Ban....”
“And when you get back into the world, what will you do, I wonder?”
“I won’t send for him, if that’s what you mean.”
“But what will you do, I wonder?”
“I wonder,” repeated Io somberly.
CHAPTER XIII
Silently they rode through the stir and thresh of the night, the two women and the man. For guidance along the woods trail they must trust to the finer sense of their horses whose heads they could not see in the closed-in murk. A desultory spray fell upon them as the wind wrenched at the boughs overhead, but the rain had ceased. Infinitely high, infinitely potent sounded the imminent tumult of the invisible Powers of the night, on whose sufferance they moved, tiny, obscure, and unharmed. It filled all the distances.