And, knowing, she heard the sea-rain whispering their judgment, and the winds repeating it across the wastes.
She raised her head, dumb, rigid, listening, and stared through the shaking window into obscurity.

Lightning flickered along the rim of the world--a pallid threat above the sea--the sea which had given them to one another and left them stranded in each other's arms there on the crumbling edges of destruction.
Her strained eyes divined, her straining senses comprehended; she cringed lower, aghast, swaying under the menace, then fell prone, head buried in her tumbled hair.
* * * * * In the morning he left for the North and Portlaw's camp.

Gray drove him to the station; Cecile, in distractingly pretty negligee waved him audacious adieu from her window.
"Shiela seems to be ill," explained Gray, as the motor car shot out into the haze of early morning.

"She asked me to say good-bye for her....

I say, Hamil, you're looking rather ill yourself.