In spite of the distance, increasing every instant we could see his face plainly.

The anxious expression it wore at first had passed.

It was pale and meek now, and I love to think there was a kind of halo about it, like that which painters place around the forehead of a saint.

So he drifted away.
The sky grew darker and darker.

It was only by straining our eyes through the unnatural twilight that we could keep the Dolphin in sight.
The figure of Binny Wallace was no longer visible, for the boat itself had dwindled to a mere white dot on the black water.