Her rigid form collapsed against me.

‘I’m frightened!’ she muttered.

‘Hush, Terry,’ I whispered. ‘Lie down and keep yourself warm and comfortable while I make breakfast.’

‘I can’t help it!’ she exclaimed, shaking herself free of my hold. ‘I know something dreadful’s happening—’

The sound of a ragged volley, amongst the hills to the south, interrupted her.

‘That noise!’ she cried, covering her ears with her hands.

‘It’s a great long way off,’ I said.

‘It’s nearer and nearer every day,’ she went on drearily. ‘I can feel it coming nearer. Like an avalanche, slowly, slowly moving—’

‘But we’re safe here, no harm can touch us. Who’d come here?’ I broke in.

‘Falling to crush us!’ she went on as if I had not spoken. ‘Oh God, my heart!’

‘Terry!’ I scolded, ‘you mustn’t take on like this, it’s not right. We should be thankful we are safe.’

‘Safe! Sometimes I think we should have stayed. We might have been able to help—’

‘Lie down and keep yourself warm,’ I besought her, ‘and that’ll help me. You’re chittering with cold. I don’t want to have an invalid on my hands.’

‘Yes, I’m cold,’ she whispered like a submissive child. ‘I’m terribly cold. Feel my hands, Hugh, they’re like ice. You’re very kind to me, Hugh,’ she murmured as I tucked her in. ‘Very good to me,’ her voice continued faintly. ‘I’m sleepy, Hugh.’

We have heard no more firing since then. In the silence of night before we sleep, and when we start awake through the long dark hours, our imagination hears the deadly sound,  nearer, dangerous, loud above the rising winds of autumn. There is very little work for us to do nowadays. We sit, pretending for each other’s sake that we have no deeper thought in our heads than pleasure in the sun. Our pretence is thin. It hides nothing from ourselves. Once or twice of late it has failed. Last night we wakened together and I knew, without requiring to see or hear her, that Terry was not asleep.

‘I can’t sleep,’ I said.

‘I can’t sleep, either,’ she repeated simply.

‘It must have been the cold that wakened us,’ I went on. ‘Would you like more clothes on the bed, Terry?’

‘How far away was that noise?’ she asked, ignoring my question.

‘Beyond Benalder,’ I told her.

‘Very near,’ she whispered.

‘Far enough to be safe for us,’ I returned.

‘Safe!’ Her voice fell. ‘We can’t pretend for ever,’ she said wearily. ‘It’s come to us and we can’t escape knowing that it’s come. The trains, our house, Duncan, Gallovie—’

‘We’ve got to go the way we must,’ I whispered. ‘There’s you and me still—’