He was whistling when he returned, the two birds in his hand.
Joanne was waiting for him in the door.

Again her face was a faintly tinted vision of tranquil loveliness; her eyes were again like the wonderful blue pools over the sunlit mountains.

She smiled as he came up.

He was amazed--not that she had recovered so completely from the emotional excitement that had racked her, but because she betrayed in no way a sign of grief--of suspense or of anxiety.

A few minutes ago he had heard her singing.