nd
here we lie on Olympus. And those two poor creatures who did meet, poor
little Richard Remington and Isabel Rivers, who met and loved too much
and had to part, they part and go their ways, and we lie here and watch
them, you and I. She'll cry, poor dear."

"She'll cry. She's crying now!"

"Poor little beasts! I think he'll cry too. He winces. He could--for
tuppence. I didn't know he had lachrymal glands at all until a little
while ago. I suppose all love is hysterical--and a little foolish. Poor
mites! Silly little pitiful creatures! How we have blundered! Think how
we must look to God! Well, we'll pity them, and then we'll inspire him
to stiffen up again--and do as we've determined he shall do. We'll see
it through,--we who lie here on the cliff. They'll be mean at times, and
horrid at times; we know them! Do you see her, a poor little fine lady
in a great house,--she sometimes goes to her room and writes."

"She writes for his BLUE WEEKLY still."

"Yes. Sometimes--I hope. And he's there in the office with a bit of her
copy in his hand."

"Is it as good as if she still talked it over with him before she wrote
it? Is it?"

"Better, I think. Let's play it's better--anyhow. It may be that talking
over was rather mixed with love-making. After all, love-making is joy
rather than magic. Don't let's pretend about that even.... Let's go on
watching him. (I don't see why her writing shouldn't be better. Indeed I
don't.) See! There he goes down along the Embankment to Westminster just
like a real man, for all that he's smaller than a grain of dust. What is
running round inside that speck of a head of his? Look at him going past
the Policemen, specks too--selected large ones from the country. I think
he's going to dinner with the Speaker--some old thing like that. Is his
face harder or commoner or stronger?--I can't quite see.... And now he's
up and speaking in the House. Hope he'll hold on to the thread. He'll
have to plan his speeches to the very end of his days--and learn the
headings."

"Isn't she up in the women's gallery to hear him?"

"No. Unless it's by accident."

"She's there," she said.

"Well, by accident it happens. Not too many accidents, Isabel. Never any
more adventures for us, dear, now. No!... They play the game, you know.
They've begun late, but now they've got to. You see it's not so
very hard for them since you and I, my dear, are here always, always
faithfully here on this warm cliff of love