They could no longer nurse any illusions as to the trend of their way or the endlessness of their quest.

They must now always keep moving.

They might alter the manner of their progression, they might change their stroke, but the continuity of effort on their part could no more be broken than could that of a swimmer at sea.

They must keep on, or go down.
So, in the meantime, they plucked the day, with a touch of wistfulness born of their very distrust of the morrow.
The glimmering sapphire seas were almost motionless, the days and nights were without wind, and the equable, balmy air was like that of an American mid-summer, so that all of the day and much of the night they spent on deck, where the Welsh schoolmaster eyed them covertly, as a honeymoon couple engulfed in the selfish contentment of their own great happiness.

It reminded Frank of earlier and older days, for, with the dropping away of his professional preoccupations, Durkin seemed to relapse into some more intimate and personal relationship with her.