Then she began to climb the next rise. The moon was struggling through
a long cloud, one moment eclipsed, the next shining with a half
radiance which made the landscape unevenly black and white. For a
second it looked out clear, and the sand showed like silver,
tear-spotted with ink in the hollows; then the cloud swept up and all
turned to a level grey. She had climbed to the top of a rise by now,
sinking deep and noiseless into the soft sand. It was too dark to see
what was below; all was shadow, black shadow--or was it a blackness
more substantial than shadow?
The cloud passed from off the moon's face, the light shone out once
more, turning the sand to silver. All the great empty space, where the
dying wind still throbbed, was white silver, except down in the hollow
where, black and still, lay the man who had followed the line of least
resistance.
CHAPTER XXIII
PAYMENT AND RECEIPT
On the day of Captain Polkington's funeral, a letter was brought to
White's Cottage. Julia herself took it in, and when she saw that it
was from Holland she asked the postman to wait a minute as she would
be glad if he would post a letter for her. He sat down, nothing loth;
the cottage was the last place on his round and he never minded a rest
there. He waited while Julia went up-stairs with her letter. She
opened it before she got to her room and barely read the contents;
there was enclosed a cheque for thirty pounds, the price of "The Good
Comrade.
Pages:
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433