Then, "Were you thinking only of the brush, Roger--and of the hurt it might cause me ?" "Yes, only of that," and he chuckled softly.
"Then I don't think it nice here at all," she complained.

"I shall sit up straight so the brush may put my eyes out!" But her head pressed even closer against him, and careful not to interrupt his paddle-stroke she touched his face for an instant with her hand.
"It's there," she purled, as if utterly comforted.

"I wanted to be sure--it is so dark!" With cimmerian blackness on all sides of them, and a chaotic tunnel ahead, they were happy.

Staring straight before him, though utterly unable to see, McKay sensed in every movement he made and in every breath he drew the exquisite thrill of a miracle.

And the same thrill swept into him and through him from the softly breathing body of Nada.
Light or darkness made no difference now.