That's a sad sound, as if
it was coming through a dream."
The girl stirred and forgot her skirt. The solemn beauty that his
words conjured up called her from her petty irritation. She looked at
the mountains, her face full of a wistful disquiet.
"And it'll seem as if there was no one else but them in the world. Two
lovers and no one else, between the sunrise and the sunset. There
won't be anybody else to matter, or to look for, or to think about.
Just those two alone, all day by the river where the traps are set and
at night under the blanket in the dark of the trees."
Susan said nothing. For some inexplicable reason her spirits sank and
she felt a bleak loneliness. A sense of insignificance fell heavily
upon her, bearing down her high sufficiency, making her feel that she
was a purposeless spectator on the outside of life. She struggled
against it, struggled back toward cheer and self-assertion, and in her
effort to get back, found herself seeking news of less picturesque
moments in Lucy's lot.
"But the winter," she said in a small voice like a pleading child's,
"the winter won't be like that?"
"When the winter comes Zavier'll build a hut.
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