The boat had not yet started; it seemed to lie in the very shadow of the quaint old town, and Lucia could trace the outline of the buildings against the starry sky.
She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this last corner of France.

'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy here.

I wonder if England will be happier ?' She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning to wonder where Maurice was.

While she wondered, he came up to her and spoke.
"Lucia, it _is_ you then?
I thought you would not be able to stay below." "No.

It is so hot.