"Ummm!" she answered.
They shivered a little in the cold air, and instinctively they drew closer to each other. Beneath them, lying high on the shingle, were the trawlers, lying ready for the morning when the fishermen would push them down into the sea.
"Tom Yeo and Jim Rattenbury are going to have a motor put into their trawler," Mary said. "It'll make a lot of difference to them. They'll be able to go out even when there isn't any wind."
Henry did not answer. He had a strange sense of fear that was inexplicable to him. He seemed to be outside himself, outside his own fear, looking on at it and wondering what had caused it. He felt as if something were pulling at him, trying to force him to look round ... and he was afraid to look round.... He shuddered violently.
"Are you cold, Quinny?" Mary said anxiously, turning to him.
"Yes," he answered quickly, wishing to account for his sudden shivering in a way that would not alarm her. "We'd better go back!..."
What was the matter? Why was he so suddenly afraid and so strangely afraid? If it had been dark, very dark, and he had been alone ... but it was bright moonlight ... so bright that one could almost see to read ... and Mary was with him ... and yet he was afraid to look round at the White Cliff. Something inside him, apart from him, seemed to feel that if he looked up the long steep path over the White Cliff ... he would see something.
"Come on, Mary!" he said, turning to go, and turning in such a way that he could not see the Cliff.
They walked rapidly up the street.... "That'll warm me," he explained to Mary ... and as he walked, he was afraid to look back.
"What the devil's the matter with me?" he kept saying to himself until they reached the end of the lane leading to the Manor.