“Cheer up, Annabel. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. It filled her with indefinable fear.
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