"You swear it?"
"I swear."
Just perceptibly the girl's lips twitched.
"Thanks. I merely wished to find out if you would still perjure yourself. To answer your question, I really don't know."
"Bess!" The man was upon his feet, his face twitching. "I'll stand a lot from you, but there's a limit—"
"Sit down, please," evenly. "It's wasted absolutely. There's not a soul but myself to see; and I'm not looking. Please be seated."
From his height the man looked down at her; at first angrily, resentfully—then with an expression wherein surprise and unbelief were mingled. He sat down.
The girl's eyes left the dot on the horizon, moved on and on.
"As I was saying," she continued, "I don't know. I'd give my soul, if I have one, to know; but I have no one with whom to make the exchange, no one who can give me light. Does that answer your question?"
Her companion stared at her, and forgot himself.