She hung her head at the sweet praise, but answered tartly, “How people will be talking!”
A dead white light came sweeping over the front of the house, and the trees and the hedges, all quiet until then, began to shudder. Kate shuddered too, and drew the frills closer about her throat. “I'm going, Pete,” she whispered.
“Not yet. It's only a taste of the salt from the sea,” said Pete. “The moon's not out many minutes.”
“Why, you goose, it's been gone these two hours. This isn't Jupiter, where it's moonlight always.”
“Always moonlight in Jubiter, is it?” said Pete. “My goodness! What coorting there must be there!”
A cock crowed from under the hen-roost, the dog barked indoors, and the mare began to stamp in her stall.
“When do you sail, Pete?”
“First tide—seven o'clock.”
“Time to be off, then. Good-bye!”
“Hould hard—a word first.”