She had averted her face from him and was still. He suddenly seized her
passive hand.
"You will have it so?" he said. "Yes? Well, let us then hope for mercy
together."
She shook her head without looking at him, like an abashed child.
"Remember," he went on incorrigible with his delicate raillery, "that
hope is a Christian virtue, and surely you can't want all the mercy for
yourself."
Before their eyes the bungalow across the cleared ground stood bathed in
a sinister light. An unexpected chill gust of wind made a noise in the
tree-tops. She snatched her hand away and stepped out into the open;
but before she had advanced more than three yards, she stood still and
pointed to the west.
"Oh look there!" she exclaimed.
Beyond the headland of Diamond Bay, lying black on a purple sea, great
masses of cloud stood piled up and bathed in a mist of blood. A crimson
crack like an open wound zigzagged between them, with a piece of dark
red sun showing at the bottom. Heyst cast an indifferent glance at the
ill-omened chaos of the sky.
"Thunderstorm making up. We shall hear it all night, but it won't visit
us, probably. The clouds generally gather round the volcano."
She was not listening to him. Her eyes reflected the sombre and violent
hues of the sunset.
"That does not look much like a sign of mercy," she said slowly, as if
to herself, and hurried on, followed by Heyst.
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