Split silver fragments on the waves,
As if this planet's life were past,
And all men peaceful in their graves."
Pat was silent for a moment as he paused, then she murmured a low phrase. "Oh, I love you, Nick!" she said.
"And I you, dear," he responded. "Have we decided anything? Are we—going through with it?"
"I've not faltered," she said soberly. "I meant it, Nick. Without you, life would be as empty as that airless void you speak of. I'm not afraid. What's there to be afraid of?"
"Only the transition, Pat. That and the unknown—but no situation could possibly be more terrible than our present one. It couldn't be! Oblivion, annihilation—they're preferable, aren't they?"
"Oh, yes! Nothing I can imagine could be other than a change for the better."
"Then let's face it!" His voice took on a note of determination. "I've thought to face it a dozen times before this, and each time I've hesitated. The hesitation of a coward, Pat."
"You're no coward, dear. It was that illusion of hope; that always weakens one. No one's strong who hasn't given up hope."