"Are you comfortable, little Gray Goose ?" "Yes.

But you, Jeems?
You are wet!" "But so happy that I don't feel it, Gray Goose." He could make her out only dimly there in the darkness of the berth.
Her face was a pale shadow, and she had loosened her damp hair so that the warmth and dry air might reach it more easily.

Kent wondered if she could hear the beating of his heart.

He forgot the fire, and the darkness grew thicker.

He could no longer see the pale outline of her face, and he drew back a little, possessed by the thought that it was sacrilegious to bend nearer to her, like a thief, in that gloom.