A very faint rose-colour crept up across the sky. It lingered in little bands above the line of the sea, and in the air immediately above the corn tiny pink cushions lay in heaps together; the heads of the corn caught the faint red glow and held it in the heart of their dark gold.
The sheer physical triumph began to leave Maradick. His heart was beating less furiously and the blood was running less wildly through his veins.
He began to wonder what she, Mrs. Lester, was thinking about it. She, of course, was angry—yes, probably furiously angry. Perhaps she would not speak to him again; perhaps she would tell her husband. What had made him do it? What had come to him? He did not know; but even now, let the consequences be what they might, he was not sorry. He was right whatever happened.
A long time passed. He was sunk in a kind of lethargy. The pink cushions in the sky sent out fingers along the blue to other pink cushions, and ribbons of gold were drawn across and across until they met in a golden flame above the water. The sun was sinking and a little wind had stirred the sea, the waves were tipped with gold.
The breeze blew about his cheeks and he shivered. It must be late; the sun was setting, the field of corn was sinking into silver mist from out of which the poppies gleamed mysteriously. Suddenly he thought of Tony. He had forgotten the boy. He had come back to the hotel probably by now; he remembered that he had said that he must be back in time for dinner. But Tony’s affairs seemed very far away; he did not feel that he could talk about things to-night, or, indeed, that he could talk to anyone. He could not go back to the hotel just yet. The sun had touched the sea at last, and, from it, there sprung across the softly stirring water a band of gold that stretched spreading like a wing until it touched the little white houses now sinking into dusk. The sky was alive with colour and the white road ran in the distance, like a ribbon, below the corn.
The bells struck again from the town; he rose and stood, an enormous dark figure, against the flaming sky. There was perfect stillness save for the very gentle rustle of the corn. In the silence the stars came out one by one, the colours were drawn back like threads from the pale blue, and across the sea only the faintest gold remained; a tiny white moon hung above the white houses and the white road, the rest of the world was grey. The lights began to shine from the town.