Vaguely, not decisively, the hazy, indolent air of summer was broken by the lazy droning of the locusts and grasshoppers.

A driver was calling to his oxen down the dusty road, the warning bark of a dog came across the fields from the gap in the fence which he was tending, and the blades of the scythes made three-quarter circles of light as the mowers travelled down the wheat-fields.
When their eyes met again, the glasses of cordial were at their lips.

He held her look by the intentional warmth and meaning of his own, drinking very slowly to the last drop; and then, like a bon viveur, drew a breath of air through his open mouth, and nodded his satisfaction.
"By Jove, but it is good stuff!" he said.

"Here's to the nun that made it," he added, making a motion to drink from the empty glass.
Sophie had not drunk all her cordial.

At least one third of it was still in the glass.