I know how easily one's nerves can lend atmosphere to something that is in itself innocent and harmless enough, but it must be remembered that (at this time), in spite of what had happened yesterday, neither Trenchard's nerves nor mine were strained.

My sensation must, I think, have closely resembled the feelings of a diver who, for the first time, descends below the water.
I had never felt anything like this before and there was quite definitely about my eyes, my nose, my mouth, a feeling of suffocation.
I can only say that it was exactly as though I were breathing in an atmosphere that was strange to me.

This may have been partly the effect of the sun that was beating down very strongly upon us, but it was also, curiously enough, the result of some dimness that obscured the direct path of one's vision.

On every side of our rough forest road there were black cavernous spaces set here and there like caves between sheets of burning sunlight.

Into these caves one's gaze simply could not penetrate, and the light and darkness shifted about one with exactly the effect of stirring, swaying water.