human
Nothing can ever separate us again, my darling!
gpt
No, not even death,
human
Don't think of death, my dearest!
gpt
I'll try not, she said.
human
But it seems so wonderful to dare be happy--after all. And the memory of that man--the thought of him--I won't call it fear, or let it be fear--is like a black spot in the brightness. It's like that big floating black shape, moving just enough to show it is there, in the silver water. Do you see? and she pointed.
gpt
Does that sound we hear, come from it--like a bell--a funeral bell tolling?
human
That's a bell buoy, I explained.
gpt
I remember it well. You know, when I was a boy I spent holidays with my brother at Hasletowers; and I loved this old buoy. I've imagined a hundred stories about it; and--by Jove--I wonder what that chap can be up to!