Even then, however,
he continued to shiver to such an extent that the pair, after
consulting in whispers for some moments, took off their coats,
wrapped him carefully about, set him in the stern of his boat, and,
jumping in themselves, pushed off and rowed rapidly homewards.
Their patient endeavoured to express his thanks, but was gravely
desired not to mention it. For ten minutes or so the Twins rowed in
silence, at the end of this time Paul suddenly dropped the bow oar;
then, leaning forward, touched his brother on the shoulder and
whispered one word--
"Shenachrum."
"Or Samson," said Peter.
"I think poorly o' Samson."
"Wi' hes hair on?"
"Wi' or wi'out, I don't lay no store by Samson."
"Very well, then--Shenachrum."
The rowing was resumed, and Mr. Fogo left to speculate on these dark
sayings. But as the boat drew near the column of blue smoke that,
rising from the hazels on the left bank, marked the whereabouts of
the Dearloves' cottage, he grew aware of a picture that, perhaps by
mere charm of composition, set his pulse extravagantly beating.
At the gate above the low cliff, her frock of pink print distinct
against the hazels, stood Tamsin Dearlove, and looked up the river.
She was bare-headed; and the level rays of evening powdered her dark
tresses with gold, and touched the trees behind into bronze.
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