The atmosphere is no longer quite as oppressive as it had been merely moments before. Something has changed, however imperceptibly.



There is nothing in Sawyer's expression to give any hint of his thoughts. He merely gazes at Wellard, as Time seems to stretch --

(the hour is come)

-- and the air shivers, blurring like heat haze on a blistering day in high summer --

(but not the man)

-- and when it clears, Henry Wellard stands alone on the endless shore.