The walls of the ravine showed ghostly grey, then faintly pink.

Through the dimness the boulders scattered about the stream stood up like mediaeval monsters, and for a few panic-stricken seconds Muriel took the twining roots of a rhododendron close at hand for the coils of a gigantic snake.

Then as the ordinary light of day filtered down into the gloomy place she sighed again with relief, and looked at her companion.
He was sitting with his chin on his hand, gazing across the ravine.

He did not stir or glance in her direction.

His yellow face was seamed in a thousand wrinkles.
A vague misgiving assailed her as she looked at him.