L. Dougall, A Dozen Ways Of Love
“ Johns descended into a small boat and secured the sailing-boat to the buoy which belonged to the house whither he was going, or rather, he thought that he secured it.Helen heard the plash of his oars until he landed. The shore was but twenty yards away, but she could hardly see it. The sail hung limp, wrinkled, and motionless. She began to sing, and there alone in the darkness she fell in love with her own voice, and sang on and on, thinking only of the music.Her uncle was long in coming; she became conscious of movement in the water, like the swell of waves outside rolling into the cove. ”
