"No; the sky is clear, the stars numberless. It is a fine night."
"But very still. I hear the water fret over its stony bed in Hollow's Copse as distinctly as if it ran below the churchyard wall."
"I am glad it is so still a night. A moaning wind or rushing rain would vex me to fever just now."
"Why, Shirley?"
"Because it would baffle my efforts to listen."
"Do you listen towards the Hollow?"
"Yes; it is the only quarter whence we can hear a sound just now."

"No; the sky is clear. It is a fine night."
"But very still."
"I am glad of that," said Shirley, "because I want to listen towards the Hollow."
