"Very well. You're not cold, are you?"
"Oh, no."
"If you are, there is my coat."
It was getting dusk rapidly, the moon stood out like a golden sickle against the darkening sky, and there was a faint breath of autumn in the air.
Marie drew the rug more closely about her. She felt gloriously sleepy, and the scent of the big bunch of flowers on her lap was almost like an anaesthetic with its intoxicating mixture of perfume.
When they came to the hayfields which they had passed early in the morning Feathers stopped the car and spoke:
"Are you asleep? You are so quiet."
"No; I was just thinking."
She sat up and looked at the view, more beautiful now in the subdued light and shadow of evening.
The world seemed filled with the scent of the warm hay, and once again, with a swift pang, her thoughts flew to Chris.