Brian strained to see it clearly and could not until the inner fusing came again and Joan stood by the fire, the sheen of moonlight on her hair.
"You did so much for him," she said, "and now--the boulder!" Brian furrowed his forehead in painful concentration.
"I thought I did it all for Don," he said.

"For months I've thought so but since something fused here in my heart, something linked to tears and stars and moonlight and the crackle of a fire, I know I did it all for you." "For me, Brian!" "For you!" In the cloud of purple Joan's eyes grew round and unbelieving.
"Your face, all tears and sorrow and sweetness," said Brian stubbornly, "etched itself on my memory the night Don ran away." "I--I did not know you saw me." "I know now that all I did that night I did for you.

Don swore at you--remember ?" The flower-like face in the purple cloud saddened.

Brian distinctly heard the crackle of the camp fire.
"I thrashed him for it!" "You said in your letter--" "I said I would help him, yes, but I wrote and I made Don write because I could not bear to have you hurt and worried.

And even at the quarry, when I was keen to be off to Whitaker, I saw your face in the mist, urging me to stay--to stay and help Don.