She began to take off her clothes and wade into the loch. I followed her. Winter had couriers in the viewless air. We hurried, breathless with cold, out of the water to dry ourselves.

‘There’s frost in that wind,’ I told her. As I rubbed myself dry my skin began to tingle and my flesh to glow. I started to run up and down the sandy foreshore of the bay where we swam. I pounded the firm sand with my feet and felt wisps of sand rise between my toes. Terry stood on the bank laughing at my antics. She shook her tangled hair over her eyes and began to comb it aside with her fingers. As I turned from watching her to raise my arms to the pale sun I caught a glimpse of moving figures in the gorge beneath our cave.

‘Down, Terry! down!’ I whispered fiercely, flinging myself flat on the sand as I spoke.

‘What’s the matter, Hugh?’ she asked in bewilderment, looking about her without obeying my command.

‘For God’s sake lie down or you’ll destroy us both,’ I muttered furiously. I began to worm my way to the place where she crouched with her head in the air and a petulant look on her face.

‘Keep your damned head down,’ I bade her with increasing anger. I was now beside her. I commenced to gather my clothes in my arms.

‘Get your clothes together,’ I whispered. ‘For the love of God do as I bid you, Terry.’

Her cheeks grew white and without another word, without even a murmur of complaint, she followed me as I crawled uphill to the shelter of the wood. Sharp stones struck our bare limbs, heather and branches scratched us, we were wet and filthy and cold with the muck of bogs we crossed. I could scarcely keep my teeth from chattering and I heard Terry’s breath come and go in painful sighs.

‘Not far now,’ I encouraged her hoarsely. She followed me in dogged silence.

‘Put on your stockings and shoes first,’ I bade her when we reached the thicket I had aimed for. ‘If we’ve to run we must be shod. Put on your clothes as fast as you can—I’ll steal a look—’

She sat down obediently on a lichen-covered stone and began to clothe herself. There were long deep scratches on her legs.

‘Here,’ I said, giving her my handkerchief, ‘put that under your stocking. It’ll keep it from sticking to you if there’s blood when you grow warm again.’

She took the handkerchief without a word. I dragged my clothes on; they were sopping and made me feel colder than when I was naked. My left knee was aching with a knock I had taken on a stone. Terry looked at me with a grey anxious face, I tried to smile.