His thoughts, drowsy and content, turned towards Violet. Certainly there had been noticeable in her all day a freezing, a congealment. She was becoming like those impassive portraits of her predecessors, marble women out of whose eyes looked some half-hidden horror....
A flash of lightning, very remote, blinked in through the uncurtained oblong of the window opposite his bed, and a mutter of thunder, as drowsy as himself, answered it. He slid his hand underneath his cheek, and fell asleep.
THE END