Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. You’ll need that. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. “You are certain of this.
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