"It is; and within five minutes you will see Sullenbode."

When he spoke his words, Maskull's lips surprised him by their tender
sensitiveness. Their action against each other sent thrills
throughout his body.

The grass shone dimly. A huge tree, with glowing branches, came into
sight. It bore a multitude of red fruit, like hanging lanterns, but
no leaves. Underneath this tree Sullenbode was sitting. Her
beautiful light--a mingling of jale and white--gleamed softly
through the darkness. She sat erect, on crossed legs, asleep. She
was clothed in a singular skin garment, which started as a cloak
thrown over one shoulder, and ended as loose breeches terminating
above the knees. Her forearms were lightly folded, and in one hand
she held a half-eaten fruit.

Maskull stood over her and looked down, deeply interested. He
thought he had never seen anything half so feminine. Her flesh was
almost melting in its softness. So undeveloped were the facial
organs that they looked scarcely human; only the lips were full,
pouting, and expressive. In their richness, these lips seemed like a
splash of vivid will on a background of slumbering protoplasm. Her
hair was undressed. Its colour could not be distinguished. It was
long and tangled, and had been tucked into her garment behind, for
convenience.

Corpang looked calm and sullen, but both the others were visibly
agitated. Maskull's heart was hammering away under his chest.
Haunte pulled him, and said, "My head feels as if it were being torn
from my shoulders."