In the next few minutes the quiet of the prairie was disturbed by Teddy’s soft snores. The atmosphere had cleared and everything was peaceful. Blake sighed and flopped over in his cocoon.
“Gin,” he whispered experimentally.
She lifted her head. “I can’t sleep.” They peered at Teddy, and she added, “I think I’ll take a walk. It’s awfully early. Do you want to come along?”
Softly he untangled his feet and put his shoes on again; she did the same. They tiptoed away to the road and set out at a good stride. The starlight was blue.
“I kept thinking of poetry,” he explained, “and I couldn’t get to sleep. It kept going round and round in my head.”
“What poetry?”
“Just little pieces that I’ve read. I thought this one over and over:
“While waves far off in a pale rose twilight
Crash on a white sand shore.
“I don’t think it’s right, but that’s the way I remember it.”