His mouth was so close to Clover's ear that she could catch his words in spite of the noisy thunder and the roar of the descending rain.
"No; I call it fun." "You look awfully pretty, do you know ?" was the next and very unexpected remark.
"Nonsense." "Not nonsense at all." At that moment a carriage dashed rapidly by, the driver guiding the horses as well as he could between the points of an umbrella, which constantly menaced his eyes.

Other travellers in the pass had evidently been surprised by the storm besides themselves.

The lady who held the umbrella looked out, and caught the picture of the group under the cliff.

It was a suggestive one.

Clover's hat was a little pushed forward by the rock against which she leaned, which in its turn pushed forward the waving rings of hair which shaded her forehead, but did not hide her laughing eyes, or the dimples in her pink cheeks.