"Isn't it like a water-colour too--you know the way water-colours dry in ridges all across the paper--I've been wondering what they looked like." His eyes became dreamy, as though he were matching things, and reminded Rachel in their colour of the green flesh of a snail.

She sat beside him looking at the mountains too.

When it became painful to look any longer, the great size of the view seeming to enlarge her eyes beyond their natural limit, she looked at the ground; it pleased her to scrutinise this inch of the soil of South America so minutely that she noticed every grain of earth and made it into a world where she was endowed with the supreme power.

She bent a blade of grass, and set an insect on the utmost tassel of it, and wondered if the insect realised his strange adventure, and thought how strange it was that she should have bent that tassel rather than any other of the million tassels.
"You've never told me you name," said Hewet suddenly.

"Miss Somebody Vinrace.