"To go on with life, even when we are alone--You will go on, I know.

Bravely." And again she said: "Yes, such men as he are--a sort of Happy Warrior." And later, in her slow and level voice: "You learned something, you say.

Isn't that--what I call--being invulnerable?
When a man's greater than anything that happens to him--" So they talked, their speech bare and simple, but the pauses and longer silences filled with deep understanding, solemnized by the time and the place, as though their two lonely spirits caught wisdom from the night, scope from the silent ocean, light from the flickering East.
The flashes, meanwhile, came faster and prolonged their glory, running behind a thin, dead screen of scalloped clouds, piercing the tropic sky with summer blue, and ripping out the lost horizon like a long black fibre from pulp.

The two friends watched in silence, when Rudolph rose, and moved cautiously aft.
"Good-night," he whispered.

"You must sleep now." That was not, however, the reason.