The doctor was about to say something when she stopped him with a gesture and bent forward to the window, listening intensely.
“What bird was that?” she asked.
“I heard nothing,” said the doctor.
“Listen!” she motioned for silence, and they sat with ears strained. “There! Didn’t you hear it?”
“No, nothing,” said the American.
“There it is again!” Mrs. Brent held up her hand for a moment. “It’s stopped now. Didn’t you hear it, Anne?”
Mrs. Dangerfield shook her head.
“You always forget that the rest of us aren’t gifted with super-normal hearing, you know.”
“Well, I heard it quite distinctly. It’s down yonder in the trees near the Pool, I think.”
“Nobody else heard it, at any rate,” said the doctor. “You must have remarkably sharp ears, Mrs. Brent. Now I begin to see why you dislike thunder so much. It must be a perfect torture to a person with your acute hearing. I withdraw my suggestion about a sedative. Nothing short of morphia would keep you asleep in a storm, I’m afraid.”