Stanley, the setter, walked to the edge of the precipice and, looking over at the falls, wagged his tail in friendly greeting.

He was braced warily, so that if this howling white animal should reach up a hand for him he could flee in time.
The girl stared dreamily at the red-stained crags that projected from the pines of the hill across the stream.

Hawker lazily aimed bits of moss at the oblivious dog and missed him.
"It must be fine to have something to think of beyond just living," said the girl to the crags.
"I suppose you mean art ?" said Hawker.
"Yes, of course.

It must be finer, at any rate, than the ordinary thing." He mused for a time.

"Yes.