The sense of her body so close
to him seemed strangely out of keeping with her talk.

He remembered a few other women of her type; he wondered what the end of
their daily association would be. Then gradually his thinking ceased to
be clear. His thirst more and more wove itself into his consciousness
until his mind was a blurred fantasmagoria, in which, repeating itself
over and over in the midst of strange ideas, would come the flashing
sound of unattainable water. He did not talk, he did not think. Through
the trees he wound his way with the grim determination of a beast
fighting against death.

The sun passed its zenith and sank slowly. It grew cooler in the forest
through which he lurched, but he was hardly aware of it. Claire, too,
was rapidly losing control over herself. She had ceased to talk, save to
utter dull, monosyllabic commands to him. The pain from her ankle and
her own thirst were blending into a dizzying maze of torture.

As darkness settled over the forest, she grew afraid. Ordinarily it
would have been a delight to her, here among the trees, but now the
shadowing night filled her with ideas of horror. She forgot her
theories, and clung to him so that he was the more hampered. She grew
afraid lest he should drop her, lest he should give up the fight, and
with that came an overwhelming desire to urge him on. She thought of
wild tales that she might tell to spur his faltering strength. At first
she resisted, then as her desire for life grew within her, she began to
lie to him. "It isn't far, just a little way to water," she whispered.

He struggled unsteadily forward. They had passed the top of the ridge
and were descending the other side. He was scarcely aware of his own
motion. He did not hear her directions, and stumbled against the trees.
When her ankle struck a bough, she realized in a flash of pain that he
was not listening to her. Then she felt him sinking down.

Gripping his shoulder, she shouted: "Go on! Water ahead!" He heard her,
his mouth opened, and he gathered himself up to stumble a few steps
farther through the darkness. They seemed to be deep in a wooded ravine.
He staggered again and fell.

She was thrown violently forward, and flung out a hand to save herself.
As she lay there, half-dazed, suddenly she felt her fingers grow cold
and wet. Water! A small stream, no larger than that from a hydrant, was
trickling over the rock.

Dragging herself to it, she drank greedily. She dipped