Her tears ceased to flow, she lived that day--her one day--over again, jealous of every minute.

After all that had been real, and more perfect than any dream.

Moreover, there had been with her through the day a man honest and loyal as any of her imagined company.

She began to take heart a little; she thought of the Col Dolent with its broad ribbon of ice set in the sheer black rocks, and always in shadow.

She thought of herself as going up some such hard, cold road in the shadow, and remembered that on the top of the Col one came out into sunlight and looked southward into Italy.