"Yes, Diana, and don't be frightened if you hear noises. I'm going to teach Jonas a Navajo song."
"We'll try not to be," replied Diana, laughing as she rose.
It was an ascent of several hundred feet, but easily made and the view from the top more than repaid them for the effort. In all his desert nights, Enoch never had seen the stars so vivid. For miles about them the shadowy peaks and chasms were discernible. And Diana's face was delicately clear cut as she seated herself on a block of stone and looked up at him.
"Diana," said Enoch, abruptly, "you make me wish that I were a poet, instead of a politician."
"But you aren't a politician!" protested Diana. "You shall not malign yourself so."
"A pleasant comment on our American politics!" exclaimed Enoch. "Well, whatever I am, words fail me utterly when I try to describe the appeal of your beauty."
"Enoch," there was a note of protest in Diana's voice, "you aren't going to make love to me on this trip, are you?"
Enoch's voice expressed entire astonishment. "Why certainly I am, Diana!"
"You'll make it very hard for me!" sighed Diana.
Enoch knelt in the sand before her and lifted her hands against his cheek.
"Sweetheart," he said softly, his great voice, rich and mellow although it hardly rose above a whisper, "my only sweetheart, not for all the love in the world would I make it hard for you. Not for all your love would I even attempt to leave you with one memory that is not all that is sweet and noble. Only in these days I want you to learn all there is in my heart, as I must learn all that is in yours. For, after that, Diana, we must never see each other again."
Diana freed one of her hands and brushed the tumbled hair from Enoch's forehead.
"Do you realize," he said, quietly, "that in all the years of my memory no woman has caressed me so? I am starved, Diana, for just such a gentle touch as that."
"Then you shall be starved no more, dearest. Sit down in the sand before me and lean your head against my knee. There!" as Enoch turned and obeyed her. "Now we can both look out at the stars and I can smooth your hair. What a mass of it you have, Enoch! And you must have been a real carrot top when you were a little boy."
"I was an ugly brat," said Enoch, comfortably. "A red-headed, freckled-faced, awkward brat! And unhappy and disagreeable as I was ugly."