His curly hair was matted with blood and salt water. There was a deep gash across his temple, from the ear, right up into the hair His eyes were closed; but his lips smiled, triumphant. "There must be pioneers! Every good life given, advances the cause." "Yes, Little Boy Blue. But has it ever struck you, that, if you marry, your wife will most probably want you to give up flying; not being able to bear that a man who was her ALL, should do these things?" She lifted the sail-cloth quite away, and stood looking down upon him, so shattered, yet so beautiful, in his triumphant sleep. Suddenly her arm was seized from behind. She turned. The Professor had succeeded in pushing his way through the crowd, and in mounting the breakwater. His cravat was awry; his top-hat was on the back of his head. He looked at her through his glasses, in amazed indignation. "Christobel," he said, "this is no place for you. Come away at once. Do you hear? I _bid_ you come with me at once." The only thing she really minded was that his hat was on, in the presence of her Dead. She could not free her arm from the grip of the Professor. She turned and pointed to the stretcher, with her left hand. "My place is here," she said, clearly and deliberately. "I have the right to be here. This is all a fearful nightmare, from which we are bound before long to wake. But meanwhile, I tell you plainly--as I ought to have told you before--_this is the body of the man I love_." At that moment, one of the crowd, springing on to the breakwater behind the Professor, struck off his hat with a cane. It fell into the sea. The Professor let go her arm, and turned to see who had perpetrated the outrage, and whether the hat could be recovered. Then she bent over the stretcher. "Boy dear," she whispered, in tones of ineffable tenderness; "this is where they have laid you; but _I_ will take you away." She put her arms beneath the body; then, with an almost superhuman effort, lifted it, and gathered it to her. It felt limp and broken. The head fell heavily against her breast. The blood and salt-water soaked through her thin muslin blouse. But she held him, and would not let him go. "I will take him away," she whispered; "I will take him away." She knew she was losing her reason, but she had known that, ever since she first looked down from the top of the cliff, and saw the broken wings floating on the sea. Now, with her Boy in her arms, her one idea was to get away from the Professor; away from the coast-guardsmen; away from the crowd. Turning her back upon the beach, she staggered along the breakwater, toward the open sea. "I will take him away," she repeated; "I will take him away." Then her foot slipped. She still held the Boy, but she felt herself falling. She closed her eyes. She never knew which she struck first, the stone breakwater, or the sea---- THE SEVENTH DAY THE STONE IS ROLLED AWAY