She smiled softly, her dark eyes into his blue ones. It was like new life to her, this passionate and whole-hearted adoration. And he was so handsome too; the sunbrowned face with its refined features, the tall, well-knit figure, stirred the animal side of her, and she found herself contrasting him with the absent one. Hilary was really getting old and prosaic and satirical. He had no more sentiment left in him than a cuttlefish--was the result of the mental contrast which she drew. Whereas this one--it did occur to her that he, too, would one day lose the buoyancy and fire of youth, or even that this might come to be diverted on some object other than herself; but for the first, it was far enough off in all conscience--for the second, she had too much pride in her own powers to give it a thought. "Ah, yes," she answered. "You think so now, but--you wouldn't always. Remember, Justin, I am older than you--well, only a little. But at any rate I have seen far more of the world--of life--than you can possibly have done. But what's the use of talking? We shall have to part sooner or later." They had dropped down on the couch, and were seated side by side, he holding both her hands. "But why shall we have to part sooner or later?" he asked, and the lack of lugubriousness with which he echoed her words struck her at the time. "Well, Justin, just look at things in the face. Isn't love in a cottage a synonym for the very height of absurdity? What about its Mashunaland equivalent--love in a prospector's camp?" He laughed aloud. There was something so happy and buoyant in his laugh that it struck her too. "Yes, it strikes you as funny, doesn't it?" she said. "Well, it is." "So it is," he answered. "I quite agree. Now look here, Hermia. Supposing it were not a case of love in a prospector's camp, but love in all the wide world--in any part of it that pleased you--no matter where--the brightest parts of it, where everything combined to make life all sunshine for you, while you made life all sunshine for me? What then?" "Now you're getting beyond me, Justin. Suppose you explain." "Yes. That's all right. I will. No more prospecting for me, no need for that or anything else--only to enjoy life--with you. Look at this." He put into her hand the communication he had received in camp--the sight of which had caused him that great and sudden agitation, and which had moved his comrade so anxiously to utter a hope that it contained no bad news. Bad news! The news that it imparted was not exactly that he was a millionaire, but that all unexpectedly he had succeeded to a goodly heritage, just stopping short of five figures as a yearly income.