She climbed up and sat on the sloping floor in front.
"I thought I should find you here," she said, drawing her skirt up about her shoulders.

"You must take me home presently, but not now." She leaned her head on the seat near to his, and they listened in silence to the fitful twanging of the fiddles as the night-wind bore it from the farmhouse, and to the ceaseless thud of the dancers, and the peals of gross laughter.

She stretched out her little hand to feel for his.
"It is so nice to lie here and hear that noise," she said.

"I like to feel that strange life beating up against me.

I like to realise forms of life utterly unlike mine." She drew a long breath.