“Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said. Their conversation hung. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. It is she that I must see. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. She had now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question.
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