It was a very low tide, too, and every rock was bared, so that from the white spit of Herm it seemed as though a long dark line of ships sped northwards towards the Casquets.

Brecqhou lay dark before us, and the Gouliot Pass was black with its coiling tide.

A flake of light glimmered through the cave behind, and now and again came the boom of a wave under some low ledge below.

Up above us the sky was full of larks, and their sweet sharp notes came down to us like peals of little silver bells.

And down in Havre Gosselin the gulls were wheeling noisily as they settled themselves for the night.
I have always thought that view one of the most beautiful in the world, but all its glories were as nothing to the greater glory in our two hearts.