Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. ‘And if it is true that you love me, I do not know why it is that you do not kiss me again at once. "Are you hurt, Thames?" asked Jack, anxiously. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk.
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