“I am cold,” she whispered as she stooped over me. And when I sat up, perplexed, her arms crept in about my shoulders. “I can give you my coat,” I said as I stared into her face. And she looked oddly forlorn and small in the spectral green light that still surrounded us. “It is not that,” she said, shaking her head. “My spirit is very lonely, O Fire-Stone!” “Then shall we talk?” I suggested. And still again she shook her head. “I do not like you so far away,” she said with that inflammatory candor of hers. I no lon…
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