"I just know, Shane. That's all." "O Granya, it seems very terrible, that one day one of us should die." "Dear Shane, it is not very terrible. If I should die, my heart, I should know I would not have long to wait. And I should be with you, Shane, even dead, when I could.... And after days of trouble suddenly one morning you would know you had had a good night's sleep, and that would be because I had come to you in the night and had kissed you, and laid a dim hand on you.... And sometimes, in difficulties, you would feel a sudden rush of strength, and that would be because I was beside you ... dear heart, dear Shane." "I am so much older, Granya. I shall be the first to die." "If you are the first to go, Shane, I shall be like some wife of the Crusades, of an old time when a dream meant more than a pocketful of money ... and men were glad to go, and women glad to send them. I shall sit by my fire, and when you come I shall talk to you in my heart ... saying little foolish sweet things.... And when I need you, I shall go out into the soft night, and call, and you will hear my voice in the Milky Way ... and God will let you come ... my darling...." "Granya!" "And maybe--sweet, sweet thought--He will let us go together...." Section 5 Here was a great fact, that he lived, but with the fact came a problem: Why? If within him there existed this sentient, supple, strong thing, and it did exist, for what end was it designed? It was not enough to have faith, to know one lived to save one's soul.... That was selfish, and selfishness was an unpardonable thing, the sin against the Holy Spirit. That has ordained there should be one occult purpose.... No, everything had a reason.... The sheltering trees, the ocean from whose womb came the great clouds that nurtured the green grass: the winds that were like gigantic brooms. The wise and the good labored, and never shirked.... Each man must give according to his station, the strong man of strength, the wise one of wisdom; the one who knew beauty must give it somehow, not huddle it like a miser's hoard.... All men must work; that was as natural an instinct as the law that men must eat: and work did not mean grinding, but justifying one's existence fully.... None may hold back, for that is ignoble, and all that is ignoble dies, dies and is used again.... The murderer's dead body may nurture a green bay-tree, such beautiful economy nature has.... And it seemed to him that the souls of dark men were used, too, but used as negations, and that was death.... Perhaps they provided the sinister thunderstorms, the terrible typhoon, the cold polar breezes, the storms off the Horn.... They might be the counterpoint of nature's harmony.... But this was going past knowledge, and past knowledge of heart and head one must not go.... But of one thing he was certain; all that is ignoble dies....