[Excerpt] They worked together, coming and going, in a rhythm, which carried their feet and their bodies in tune (1). She stooped, she lifted the burden of sheaves, she turned her face to the dimness where he was, and went with her burden over the stubble (2). She hesitated, set down her sheaves, there was a swish and hiss of mingling oats, he was drawing near, and he must turn again (3). And there was the flaring moon laying bare her bosom again, making her drift and ebb like a wave (4).
