He did not stir at her coming though she felt convinced that he was aware of her, aware probably of everything that passed within a considerable radius of his disreputable person.

His dark face, lined and dirty, half-covered with ragged black hair that ended in a long thin wisp like a goat's beard on his shrunken chest, was still turned to the east as though challenging the sun that was smiting a swift course through the heavens as if with a flaming sword.

The simile rushed through her mind unbidden.

Where would she be--what would have happened to her--by the time that sword was sheathed?
She conquered her repulsion and approached the man.

As she did so, Peter glided silently up like a faithful watch-dog and took his place at her right hand.