And there came on her a horror of the room and of all that had
happened in it, a horror of death and of the dead.
She turned away to the window and looked out. The long marshland
stretched below, white under the August sun. Beyond it the green hills
with their steep gray cliffs rose and receded, like a coast line, head
after head.
To Ally the scene was desolate beyond all bearing and the house was
terrible.
Her eyelids pricked. Her mouth trembled. She kept her back turned to
Greatorex while she stifled a sob with her handkerchief pressed tight
to her lips.
He saw and came to her and put his arm round her.
"What is it, Ally? What is it, loove?"
She looked up at him.
"I don't know, Jim. But--I think--I'm afraid."
"What are you afraid of?"