But it
more or less expressed the superficial feelings of us all. And when, a
little later, he turned to compliment his wife on the fried potatoes,
and discovered that she was snoring, with her back against a tree, he
grunted with content at the sight and put a ground-sheet over her feet,
as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to fall asleep
after dinner, and then moved back to his own corner, smoking his pipe
with great satisfaction.
And I, smoking mine too, lay and fought against the most delicious
sleep imaginable, while my eyes wandered from the fire to the stars
peeping through the branches, and then back again to the group about me.
The Rev. Timothy soon let his pipe go out, and succumbed as his wife had
done, for he had worked hard and eaten well. Sangree, also smoking,
leaned against a tree with his gaze fixed on the girl, a depth of
yearning in his face that he could not hide, and that really distressed
me for him. And Joan herself, with wide staring eyes, alert, full of the
new forces of the place, evidently keyed up by the magic of finding
herself among all the things her soul recognised as "home," sat rigid by
the fire, her thoughts roaming through the spaces, the blood stirring
about her heart.
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