"And in the end, perhaps," he said slowly, very slowly, "I shall be like him." He sat for a moment, silent. At length he continued: "But if it were to be I, I alone, for all time, could it last--this Red Love of ours? Could it? ... Could it?" She leaned forward. "Why not?" she asked, lightly. "Why not?" Leaden eyes were gazing out into nothingness. "Age comes," he said. His voice was low, and deep, and dead. "The body withers. The brain grows dull. The blood becomes thin. The soul gets weary. And the power to live as once we lived is taken from us. We sit white-haired, blue-veined, drinking in the sun through shrivelled pores to drive the chill from our shrunken frames. It will come to you--to me-- to all of us. And neither man, nor God may stop it." There had come to her face an expression as of a great fear. This man who knew so little, was teaching of that little to her, who knew so much.... At length she swept that fear from her, as one might brush aside the ugly web of a sullen spider.... Again she was the woman who did not know the Known, but only the Unknown. She asked, lightly: "Why worry over the years to come when the days that are are ours.... There is happiness in the days that are?" Her voice was very soft. Again dull eyes gleamed; he exclaimed: "Happiness! I did not dream there could be a happiness like this!" Her slender arm was about his neck; he could feel the glow of its warmth. Her voice was soothing--infinitely soothing, and musical beyond the telling. "Then keep a-dreaming, My Fool," she purred, softly. It was almost a whisper. "Keep a-dreaming." "Would to God I could!" he cried, earnestly. "Would to God I could, forever! The memories of a thousand joys are with me always. Love? What is this love? A golden leaf of happiness floating on the summer seas of life. A silver star of utter joy set in the soft heavens of eternity. A dream that is a reality; a reality that is a dream.... But the storm comes upon the sea. Black clouds blot out the stars. And there can be no dream from which there is no awakening." "Yet," she cajoled, "while the sea smiles--while the star shines--while we dream--there is happiness to pay for all." "To pay for all, and more!" Again he turned upon her, swiftly. "Yet in the golden aura of that happiness, there always stand three sodden souls pointing stark fingers at me in ghoulish glee.... Parmalee--Rogers-- VanDam.... If I thought--if I for one moment thought--that I should be as they, I'd--" She stopped him, quickly: "You'd what, My Fool?" "I'd kill you where you stand!" he replied, savagely. She laughed, gaily, clapping soft palms.