Cinders had stirred in his sleep, and she had drawn away one of her hands to fondle him.
There fell short silence.

Then, her voice a little doubtful, she spoke-- "You are not ambitious, then ?" He threw himself back against the rock, and with the movement a certain tension went out of the atmosphere--a tension of which she had been vaguely aware almost without knowing it.
"Ah, yes, I am ambitious," he said.

"I am a builder.

I have my work to do.

And I shall succeed.