ended one day-they never knew which of
them expressed it first-by throwing out the
idea that they did n't care for each other. Over
this idea they grew quite intimate; they rallied
to it in a way that marked a fresh start in their
confidence. If to feel deeply together about
certain things wholly distinct from themselves
did n't constitute a safety, where was safety to be
looked for? Not lightly nor often, not without
occasion nor without emotion, any more than in
any other reference by serious people to a mystery
of their faith; but when something had happened
to warm, as it were, the air for it, they came as
near as they could come to calling their Dead by
name. They felt it was coming very near to utter
their thought at all. The word "they" ex-
pressed enough; it limited the mention, it had a
dignity of its own, and if, in their talk, you had
heard our friends use it, you might have taken
them for a pair of pagans of old alluding decently
to the domesticated gods. They never knew--
at least Stransom never knew--how they had
learned to be sure about each other. If it had
been with each a question of what the other was
there for, the certitude had come in some fine
way of its own. Any faith, after all, has the
instinct of propagation, and it was as natural as it
was beautiful that they should have taken pleasure

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