Page:Walpole - Fortitude.djvu/183

 the darker black of Stephen's body no longer silhouetted against the lighter black of the night sky.

Still in Peter's nose there was that scent of wet clothes and the deep, husky voice was in his ears. But, save for the faint yellow flickering lamp, struggling against the tempest, he was alone in the square.

The rain had begun to fall again.