Then she shook her head, not looking at him.
"There is no use in going--now." "Why ?" "Because--because I do not wish it." Her eyes fell lower; she drew a long, unsteady breath.

"And because it is too late," she said.

"You should have gone before I ever knew you--if I was to be spared my peace of mind." Gray came galloping back through the woods, followed by his father and Eudo Stent.

They were rather excited, having found signs of turkey along the mud of a distant branch; and, as they all gathered around a cold luncheon spread beside the wagon, a lively discussion began concerning the relative chances of "roosting" and "yelping." Hamil talked as in a dream, scarcely conscious that he was speaking and laughing a great deal.

A heavenly sort of intoxication possessed him; a paradise of divine unrealities seemed to surround him--Shiela, the clustering pines, the strange white sunlight, the depthless splendour of the unshadowed blue above.
He heard vaguely the voices of the others, Cardross, senior, rallying Gray on his shooting, Gray replying in kind, the soft Southern voices of the guides at their own repast by the picket line, the stir and whisk and crunch of horses nuzzling their feed.
Specks moved in the dome of heaven--buzzards.