temptation to join that dance was irresistible, and Gethin, suddenly
succumbing to it, sprang out upon them. There was a little scream, a
bark, and a flutter, and Morva, clasped in Gethin's arms, was wildly
whirled in an impromptu dance, round and round the green sward, up and
down, and round again, until, breathless and panting, they stopped from
sheer exhaustion; and when Gethin at last led his laughing partner to
rest under the golden broom bushes, he cared not a whit that she chided
him with a reproving finger, for her voice was full of merriment and
joy.

The sun was drawing near his setting, and still they sat and talked and
laughed together, Tudor stretched at their feet, and looking from one
to the other with an air of entire approval.



[1] Do.