You are deliberately beginning to say things! ...

Stephen, you silly! you are making love to me!" In the darkness his hand encountered hers on the wooden rail, and the tremor of the contact silenced her.

She freed one finger, then let it rest with its slender fellow-prisoners.

There was no use in trying to speak just then--utterly useless her voice in the soft, rounded throat imprisoned by the swelling pulses that tightened and hammered and tightened.
Years seemed to fall away from her, slipping back, back into girlhood, into childhood, drawing not her alone on the gliding tide, but carrying him with her.

An exquisite languor held her.