"
There was a silence.
"I grew to rely on her a great deal, Kirk, when you were away. You know
I always used to before we were married. She's so wonderfully strong.
And then when your letters stopped coming----"
"There aren't any postal arrangements out there in the interior. It was
the worst part of it--not being able to write to you or hear from you.
Heavens, what an exile I've been this last year! Anything may have
happened!"
"Perhaps something has," said Ruth mysteriously.
"What do you mean?"
"Wait and see. Oh, I know one thing that has happened. I've been
looking at you all this while trying to think what it was. You've grown
a beard, and it looks perfectly horrid."
"Sheer laziness. It shall come off this very day. I knew you would hate
it."
"I certainly do. It makes you look so old."
Kirk's face clouded.
"I feel old."
For the first time since he had left the ship the memory of Hank had
come back to him. The sight of Ruth had driven it away, but now it
swept back on him. The golden moment was over. Life with all its
troubles and its explanations and its burdening sense of failure must
be faced.
"What's the matter?" asked Ruth, startled by the sudden change.
"I was thinking of poor old Hank."
"Where is Mr. Jardine? Didn't he come back with you?"
"He's dead, dear," said Kirk gently.
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