'Yes; but the wind is quite strong enough for them,' she answered,

'Look at the shadows--like blots floating away. Don't they devour the
sunshine?'

'It is quite warm enough here,' she said, nestling in to him.

'Yes; but the sting is missing. I like to feel the warmth biting in.'

'No, I do not. To be cosy is enough.'

'I like the sunshine on me, real, and manifest, and tangible. I feel
like a seed that has been frozen for ages. I want to be bitten by the
sunshine.'

She leaned over and kissed him. The sun came bright-footed over the
water, leaving a shining print on Siegmund's face. He lay, with
half-closed eyes, sprawled loosely on the sand. Looking at his limbs,
she imagined he must be heavy, like the bounders. She sat over him, with
her fingers stroking his eyebrows, that were broad and rather arched. He
lay perfectly still, in a half-dream.

Presently she laid her head on his breast, and remained so, watching the
sea, and listening to his heart-beats. The throb was strong and deep. It
seemed to go through the whole island and the whole afternoon, and it
fascinated her: so deep, unheard, with its great expulsions of life. Had
the world a heart? Was there also deep in the world a great God thudding
out waves of life, like a great heart, unconscious? It frightened her.
This was the God she knew not, as she knew not this Siegmund. It was so