It radiated upwards into their faces, and sent over half the plantation gigantic shadows of both man and woman, each dusky shape becoming distorted and mangled upon the tree-trunks till it wasted to nothing.
He looked hard into her eyes when she raised them for a moment; Bathsheba looked down again, for his gaze was too strong to be received point-blank with her own.

But she had obliquely noticed that he was young and slim, and that he wore three chevrons upon his sleeve.
Bathsheba pulled again.
"You are a prisoner, miss; it is no use blinking the matter," said the soldier, drily.

"I must cut your dress if you are in such a hurry." "Yes--please do!" she exclaimed, helplessly.
"It wouldn't be necessary if you could wait a moment," and he unwound a cord from the little wheel.

She withdrew her own hand, but, whether by accident or design, he touched it.

Bathsheba was vexed; she hardly knew why.
His unravelling went on, but it nevertheless seemed coming to no end.
She looked at him again.
"Thank you for the sight of such a beautiful face!" said the young sergeant, without ceremony.
She coloured with embarrassment.