Then as he lay, head cradled on her knees, looking up at her, all unbidden, a vision of the future in its sharp-cut ominous desolation flashed into his vision--the world without her!--the endless stretch of time--youth with no meaning, effort wasted, attainment without desire, loneliness, arid, terrible days unending.
"It is too--too senseless!" he breathed, stumbling to his feet as the vague, scarcely formulated horror of it suddenly turned keen and bit into him as he began to realise for the first time something of what it threatened.
"What is it, Garry ?" she asked in gentle concern, as he stood looking darkly at her.

"Is it time to go?
You are tired, I know." She rose and opened the great glass doors.

"You poor tired boy," she whispered, waiting for him.

And as he did not stir: "What is the matter, Garry ?" "Nothing.

I am trying to understand that our winter is ended." She nodded.