A broad silver radiance spread above the black tops of the beech trees. It was the moon rising behind the wood, throwing long slants of light across the grasslands, and making a glimmer of mystery everywhere. The towering shadow of the beech wood still lay upon the island and the mere, leaving them all black in a world of tremulous white light.
Mellis drew aside suddenly, her arms over her bosom, her eyes looking toward the tops of the beech trees.
“Martin!”
A something in her voice kept him from looking at her.
“I must become a man. This adventure has shipwrecked me.”
He was most desperately and dearly perplexed.
“Is there no cloth anywhere?”
She could not help laughing at his immense seriousness.
“Have you forgotten? Ah!”
The moon seemed to glide suddenly above the beech wood, huge, and yellow, and stealthy. The shadows slipped away from the island; the long grass glimmered like silver wire; the mere shone like a shield.