The chaos of the river and two tiny figures staggering hour after hour
over the hopeless, impossible chasms and buttes; Harden going to the
rescue of Forrester.
Starlight on the desert. Diana's touch on his forehead, her tender,
gentle fingers smoothing his hair as they gazed together at the
mysterious shadowy depth beyond which flowed the Colorado; that tender
touch on his hair and forehead and the desert stars thrilling near,
infinitely remote.
Suddenly Enoch, resting his arm on the mantel, dropped his forehead
upon it and stood so, the wonderful glowing colors of the painting
seeming to shimmer on his bronze hair. At last, at the sound of
Jonas's footstep in the hall, he lifted his head, turned off the light
above the painting, crossed to his desk and, dropping the still
unopened envelope into a secret drawer, locked it and put the key in
his pocket.
The following morning Senator Havisham came to see Enoch. He was one
of the leading members of Enoch's party, a virile, progressive man,
very little older than the Secretary himself. After shaking hands with
Enoch and taking one of his cigars, he sat staring at him as if he
scarcely knew how to begin.
Enoch smiled half sadly. "Go ahead, Senator," he said.
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