"Go and fetch me a glass of water!" Lyndall said, at last.

Gregory went out to find it; when he put it down at her side she merely
moved her head in recognition, and he went back to his seat and his old
occupation. Then Em moved slowly away from the window, and through it came
in spotted, hard-winged insects, to play round the lamp, till, one by one,
they stuck to its glass, and fell to the foot dead.

Ten o'clock struck. Then Lyndall rose, gathered up her papers and letters,
and wished Gregory good night. Some time after Em entered; she had been
sitting all the while on the loft ladder, and had drawn her kapje down very
much over her face.

Gregory was piecing together the bits of an envelope when she came in.

"I thought you were never coming," he said, turning round quickly, and
throwing the fragments onto the floor. "You know I have been shearing all
day, and it is ten o'clock already."

"I'm sorry. I did not think you would be going so soon," she said in a low
voice.

"I can't hear what you say. What makes you mumble so? Well, good night,
Em."

He stooped down hastily to kiss her.

"I want to talk to you, Gregory."