The spark of a cigarette vanished behind them.

"A beautiful voice," Terence murmured.
Rachel assented.

Helen had a beautiful voice.
After a silence she asked, looking up into the sky, "Are we on the deck of a steamer on a river in South America?
Am I Rachel, are you Terence ?" The great black world lay round them.

As they were drawn smoothly along it seemed possessed of immense thickness and endurance.

They could discern pointed tree-tops and blunt rounded tree-tops.