The women and children crowded the doors.
"What is it then, Carette ?" they cried.

"Where is he taking him ?" "He is making him show him the way to the Boutiques," cried Carette, crumpling her pretty face into hideous grimaces by way of explanation.
"Oh, my good!" cried the women, and the procession passed on along the road that led past Dos d'Ane.

The steamy haze lay thicker here.

The wind drove it past in slow coils, but its skirts seemed to cling to the heather and bracken as though reluctant to loose its hold on the Island.
They passed down a rough rock path with ragged yellow sides, and stood suddenly looking out, as it seemed, on death.
In front and all around--a fathomless void of mist, which curled slowly past in thin white whorls.

The only solid thing--the raw yellow path on which they stood.