Book Two The Woman - Chapter 11 A Shadow in the Hedge

Over the uplands, to my left, the moon was peeping at me, very
broad and yellow, as yet, casting long shadows athwart my way.
The air was heavy with the perfume of honeysuckle abloom in the
hedges--a warm, still air wherein a deep silence brooded, and in
which leaf fluttered not and twig stirred not; but it was none of
this I held in my thoughts as I strode along, whistling softly as
I went. Yet, in a while, chancing to lift my eyes, I beheld the
object of my reverie coming towards me through the shadows.

"Why--Charmian!" said I, uncovering my head.

"Why--Peter!"

"Did you come to meet me?"

"It must be nearly nine o'clock, sir."

"Yes, I had to finish some work."

"Did any one pass you on the road?"

"Not a soul."

"Peter, have you an enemy?"

"Not that I know of, unless it be myself. Epictetus says
somewhere that--"

"Oh, Peter, how dreadfully quiet everything is!" said she, and
shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"No--but it is so dreadfully--still."

Now in one place the lane, narrowing suddenly, led between high
banks crowned with bushes, so that it was very dark there. As we
entered this gloom Charmian suddenly drew closer to my side and
slipped her hand beneath my arm and into my clasp, and the touch
of her fingers was like ice.