He laid his hand on her shoulder, and softly, gently, it began to travel down the curve of her back, blindly, with a blind stroking motion, to the curve of her crouching loins.
And there his hand softly, softly, stroked the curve of her flank, in the blind instinctive caress. And closing his hand softly on her upper arm, he drew her up and led her slowly to the hut, not letting go of her till she was inside.
The hand stroked her face softly, softly, with infinite soothing and assurance, and at last there was the soft touch of a kiss on her cheek.
She lay quite still, in a sort of sleep, in a sort of dream.
The keeper, squatting beside her, was also watching with an amused face the bold little bird in her hands. And he stood up, and stood away, moving to the other coop.