Chapter Thirty-TwoRachel drew away at last. She had not known that she could feel like this—to be two people and yet one, to have a double strength and a double joy, to be the giver of joy and the giver of love to someone whose only thought was to give and give again. A line of Browning’s came to her and stayed: ‘Men have died, trying to find this place which we have found.’ She felt the triumph of that, and its disregard of death.
She wrenched herself as from a dream, putting him away with her two hands.
‘Gale, we must go on—we must.’
He said reflectively, ‘I don’t know what you want to go on for, honey.’
She shook his arm.
‘I’ve got to find Caroline.’
‘And you don’t know where she is, so how are you going to find her? See here, if she left while you were at lunch, that would be som
