'It is very beautiful.'
He was listening to the faint near sounds, the dropping of water-drops
from the oar-blades, the slight drumming of the lanterns behind him, as
they rubbed against one another, the occasional rustling of Gudrun's
full skirt, an alien land noise. His mind was almost submerged, he was
almost transfused, lapsed out for the first time in his life, into the
things about him. For he always kept such a keen attentiveness,
concentrated and unyielding in himself. Now he had let go,
imperceptibly he was melting into oneness with the whole. It was like
pure, perfect sleep, his first great sleep of life. He had been so
insistent, so guarded, all his life. But here was sleep, and peace, and
perfect lapsing out.
'Shall I row to the landing-stage?' asked Gudrun wistfully.
'Anywhere,' he answered. 'Let it drift.'
'Tell me then, if we are running into anything,' she replied, in that
very quiet, toneless voice of sheer intimacy.
'The lights will show,' he said.
So they drifted almost motionless, in silence.
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