"Why no we're not! It's only the method we're giving up. This way of doing it. You've tried this long enough."
"But what else is there? Just looking. Just keeping on looking—and hoping. Just the chance. What other method is there?"
"We'll find some other," he insisted, not willing, when she looked like that, to speak his fears. "There'll be some other way. But you can't keep on this way—dear."
There was another silence—a different one: silence which opened to receive them at the throb in his voice as he spoke that last word.
He had to go back that night. "Well?" he asked gently, as they neared her hotel.
"I'll be down in a couple of days," replied Katie, not steadily.
"And you'll be there a little while, won't you," he asked wistfully, "before you go—you don't know where?"
"Yes," she said, turning her eyes upon him for just an instant, "a little while—before I go—I don't know where."
But though she was going—she didn't know where—though she was giving up—seemed conquered—through all the uncertainty and the sadness there surged a strange new joy in their hearts as, very slowly, they walked that final block.
At the door, after a moment's full silence, she held out her hand. "And you'll be down there—mending boats?"