Terniloff, his usual pallor chased away by the bracing wind and the pleasure of the sport, was affable and even loquacious.

He had great estates of his own in Saxony and was explaining to the Duke his manner of shooting them.

Middleton glanced at his horn-rimmed watch.
"There's another hour's good light, sir," he said.

"Would you care about a partridge drive, or should we do through the home copse ?" "If I might make a suggestion," Terniloff observed diffidently, "most of the pheasants went into that gloomy-looking wood just across the marshes." There was a moment's rather curious silence.

Dominey had turned and was looking towards the wood in question, as though fascinated by its almost sinister-like blackness and density.