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Although neither of them knew it, the first of the great autumn storms of Mid-World had arrived.

Roland of Gilead stood atop the Cradle of Lud, dressed in gold.

But before she and Jeeves led them away, the woman did something which made Eddie repent a little of his hard thoughts: knelt, brushed back the hair of the man in the kilt, and placed a kiss on his dirty cheek. "Goodbye, Winston," she said. "Wait for me where the trees clear and the water's sweet. I’ll come to ye, ay, as sure as dawn makes shadows run west."
"I didn't want to kill him," Susannah said ...

"I'll come for you," Roland said in the same low voice.
"I know," Jake repeated. The wind gusted again. The bridge swayed and groaned. The Send was now speckled with whitecaps, and water boiled whitely around the wreck of the blue mono jutting from the river on the upstream side.

"Come on!" Roland shouted. "Wind's freshening! Come on, Jake!"
"Not without Oy!"

"Yes, it's almost time for that. But not in the dark." Roland rolled onto his side, pulled up a blanket, and appeared to go to sleep.

"You won't let me drop this time?"

At last he did become aware that Mrs Shaw was still sitting on his bed, looking at him with an expression of friendly detachment tinctured with faint curiosity.