Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. “Drive towards St. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis.
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