Even the incident of the lighted window vexed her not at all.
"Hilary," she said softly, lingering on the name, since to frame it and utter it and hear her lips speaking it greatly pleased her, "Hilary," and her hand sought his, and finding it she was content.
It was a warm night of August.

Overhead the moon sailed in a cloudless summer sky, drowning the stars.

To the right, far below, the lamps of Weymouth curved about the shore; and in front the great bay shimmered like a jewel.

Seven miles across it the massive bluff of Portland pushed into the sea; and even those rugged cliffs were subdued to the beauty of the night.

Beneath them the riding-lights shone steady upon the masts of the battle ships.