’ Gerald dropped down to join her just as her hand came up, clutching the handle. ‘Well, she’d better learn fast if she wants any truck with me. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. ‘What the devil for?’ ‘Messenger,’ Gerald explained. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. None at all.
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