of grass beside him and, with her arms under her head, stared up at the glimmering sky. "I'm always scared when I'm not with you, Durek."
"Why, Fawnie, you told me once that you were not afraid of anything, or anyone."
"Ah, that was 'fore I get my baby. All those fellas from Mistwell, they would ha' torn me to pieces, surely."
"Nonsense. They only came to make an infernal row."
"Well, Durek, I don' like those informal rows. They sound like hell marchin' down the road. You won't turn baby an' me out, will you?"
"Don't worry, Fawnie, you are going to be taken care of." He stared down at her face, in its frame of rich, dark hair, her slanting eyes holding a gleam of moonlight in their depths, her slender bare ankles crossed on the odourous grass. It was soothing to lie beside her there in the troubled shadow of old Grimstone, and watch the moon like a pale petal wafted across the sky.
"I was in swimmin,' too." Her voice had changed, and had a little husky note. "I was in swimmin' that place where the sand's all wavy. It made me cool as cool. Feel." She laid one supple, cool, little hand on his throat. "Do you like the way that feels, Durek?"
