CHAPTER V. PENGELLY ON EARTH
As we passed by Father Christmas into the open air, I realized that it had become, during this last half-hour, very much colder.
Snow was now falling with a soft determination, settling against the cheek like the touch of a dove's wing, touching the hand with an intimacy that seemed to be the privilege of oneself alone.
The air was colder, and the arena wore now a fiercer colour. Through the snow all the sky signs danced in a fresh activity, and the white surface that began thinly to encrust the paths and borders made the walls and roofs velvet in a dim and gentle dusk. The hour of release from the caves had completely passed, and now the arena was filled with figures all bent upon the warfare of the evening--warfare of all kinds, duels between man and woman
