"Don't let's lose our grip on ourselves, Enoch. It only makes a hard
situation harder. Now that we understand each other, let us kiss the
cross, and go on."
Enoch, arms folded on his chest, great head bowed, walked up and down
under the trees slowly for a moment. When he paused before her, it was
to speak with his customary calm and decision, though his eyes
smoldered.
"Diana, I want to take the trip with you, just as we planned, and go
down Bright Angel with your father and you. I want those few days in
the desert with you to carry me through the rest of my life. You need
not fear, dear, that for one moment I will lose grip on myself."
Diana looked at him as if she never had seen him before. She looked at
the gaunt, strong features, the massive chin, the sensitive, firm
mouth, the lines of self-control and purposefulness around eyes and
lips, and over all the deep-seated sadness that made Enoch's face
unforgettable. Slowly she turned from him to the desert, and after a
moment, as if she had gathered strength from the far horizon, she
answered him, still with the little note of steadiness in her voice:
"I think we'll have to have those last few days, together, Enoch."
Enoch heaved a deep sigh then smiled, brilliantly.
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