Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. "By all means," rejoined Quilt. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. "I don't exactly know the rights of that affair," rejoined Griffin, with some curiosity.
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