Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. "I believe he is conscious," she answered. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs.
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