The cousins spoke fitfully of what they might do if the rain ceased.
"A good time for work," said Irene to Piers.

"But perhaps it's all the same to you, rain or shine?
"Much the same," Piers answered mechanically.
He passed a strange morning.

Though to begin with he had seated himself resolutely, the attempt to study was ridiculous; the sight of his books and papers moved him to loathing.

He watched the sky, hoping to see it broken.

He stood by his door, listening, listening if perchance he might hear the movements of the girls, or hear a word in Irene's voice.
Once he did hear her; she called to Olga, laughingly; and at the sound he quivered, his breath stopped.
The clouds parted; a fresh breeze unveiled the summer blue.