time. They walked on, along a path that bordered the turfy cliff. The sea, its grayness whipped by the wind into lines of white foam that advanced and retreated, was worrying the rocks below them. Gulls flashed silver white against a low and frowning sky. The day suited her mood. She felt bold, braced by the wind and the sea. The high cliffs gave her courage. The space gave her freedom.
"For that," Chip said at last, "two things are necessary. The first is love; the second is the means to keep that love from perishing."
"Once you possess the first," said Judy, "you have more power to gain the second."
"But I don't possess it."
"Do you mean that you have never loved any one?"
"I mean that no one does or could care for me."
"I wish you hadn't said that," she told him, turning her head to meet his eyes.
"Why? It's the truth."
"No, it isn't the truth. Besides, no man ought to be as humble as that. It's all wrong. You have never tried to make any one love you. Have you?"
"No."
"Then how can you possibly know?"
