He shuddered and turned sharply towards the pavilion.
Osman had gone, and Mrs. Clarke was pouring the coffee into the tiny cups.
“There’s no wind, is there—is there?” he asked her.
She looked up at him.
“But not a breath!” she said.
After a pause she added:
“Why do you ask such a thing?”
“I heard wind in—in the tops of trees,” he almost stammered.
“That’s impossible.”
“But I say I did!” he exclaimed, with violence. “In pine trees.”