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 She caught his tone and rose to her feet. "Why, did you get scared?"

"Damn scared!"

"Oh, goody-goody!"

"Don't be silly. Come on back." He took her hand and they turned toward the three monuments—now more than ever like sinister tents. For a long while they kept silence. Then Gritty said, with a sigh:

"I'm glad I came, anyway."

Paul had regained control of himself. "Why?"

"It was wonderful. Just the feeling of being alone, of going toward nothing—oh, of just being. Don't you ever forget yourself and just be?"

With a shock Paul realized that Gritty had intuitively attained experiences for which he had had to strive. In the sense that Gritty meant, he had never "just been." He had come near it a few times at sea, and on the day when he had sat and watched his ship pass through the canal without him. But these occasions were acutely exceptional. As a rule his sensations were described to him by a watching and recording faculty whilst he was in the act of experiencing them, whereas Gritty, by virtue of some spontaneity of soul, untroubled by an analytic mind, "just was," as a matter of course, a good portion of the time. He supposed it was part and parcel of her femininity, and said as much, to belittle her. But Gritty had already outlived her interest in the matter.

"I'm tired now," she plaintively announced.

"You would be," he retorted.

"And cold," she added, to reinforce her claim for sympathy.

"And thirsty, no doubt," he suggested.

"Yes."

"Well, you must have patience."

"But I don't want to have patience."

"What do you want to have?"