When she awoke in the morning at the first sound of the voice of the mooddin, the evil dreams seemed to be with her still.

She appeared to be moving along in them like one spell-bound by a great dread that she could not utter, as if she were living through a nightmare of the day.

Then long hour followed long hour, but the inquietude of her mood did not abate.

Her bosom heaved, her throat throbbed, her excitement became hysterical.
Sometimes she broke into wild, inarticulate shouts, and sometimes the black women could have believed, in spite of knowledge and reason, that she was muttering and speaking words, though with a wild disorder of utterance.
At last the day waned and the sun went down.

Naomi seemed to know when this occurred, for she could scent the cool air.