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.

.

My brother died there." She lifted her clear eyes to his; he was staring at the outline of the Hither Woods fringing the ochre-tinted heights.
"There was no companion like him," he said; "there is no one to take his place.

Still, time helps--in a measure." But he looked out across the sea with a grief for ever new.
She, too, had been helped by time; she was very young when the distant and fabled seas took father and mother; and it was not entirely their memory, but more the wistful lack of ability to remember that left her so hopelessly alone.
Sharper his sorrow; but there was the comfort of recollection in it; and she looked at him and, for an instant, envied him his keener grief.