The Voyage Out
solid, rising into the tapering mass of the mountain, and pricked here
and there on the slopes by the tiny lights of villas. The driving air,
the drone of the trees, and the flashing light which now and again
spread a broad illumination over the earth filled Mrs. Flushing with
exultation. Her breasts rose and fell.
“Splendid! Splendid!” she muttered to herself. Then she turned back
into the hall and exclaimed in a peremptory voice, “Come outside and
see, Wilfrid; it’s wonderful.”
Some half-stirred; some rose; some dropped their balls of wool and
began to stoop to look for them.
“To bed—to bed,” said Miss Allan.
“It was the move with your Queen that gave it away, Pepper,” exclaimed
Mr. Elliot triumphantly, sweeping the pieces together and standing up.
He had won the game.
“What? Pepper beaten at last? I congratulate you!” said Arthur Venning,
who was wheeling old Mrs. Paley to bed.
All these voices sounded gratefully in St. John’s ears as he lay
half-asleep, and yet vividly conscious of everything around him. Across
his eyes passed a procession of objects, black and indistinct, the
figures of people picking up their books, their cards, their balls of
wool, their work-baskets, and passing him one after another on their
way to bed.