Jane felt herself bound in a feeling that was neither listlessness nor indifference, yet which rendered her incapable of interest.

She was still strong in body, but emotionally tired.

That hour at the entrance to Deception Pass had been the climax of her suffering--the flood of her wrath--the last of her sacrifice--the supremity of her love--and the attainment of peace.

She thought that if she had little Fay she would not ask any more of life.
Like an automaton she followed Lassiter down the steep trail of dust and bits of weathered stone; and when the little slides moved with her or piled around her knees she experienced no alarm.

Vague relief came to her in the sense of being enclosed between dark stone walls, deep hidden from the glare of sun, from the glistening sage.