"Tobacco smoke diluted with sea breeze is delicious," she said, as the
wind whirled the aromatic smoke of his cigarette up into her face.
"Don't move, Mr. Siward; I like it; there is to me always a faint odour
of sweet-brier in the melange. Did you ever notice it?"

The breeze-blown conversation became fragmentary, veering as
capriciously as the purple wind-flaws that spread across the shoals. But
always to her question or comment she found in his response the charm of
freshness, of quick intelligence, or of a humourous and idle perversity
which stimulates without demanding.

Once, glancing back at the house where the T-cart and horses stood, she
said that she had better return; or perhaps she only thought she said
it, for he made no response that time. And a few moments later they
reached the headland, and the Atlantic lay below, flowing azure from
horizon to horizon--under a universe of depthless blue. And for a long
while neither spoke.

With her the spell endured until conscience began to stir. Then she
awoke, uneasy as always, under the shadow of restraint or pressure,
until her eyes fell on him and lingered.

A subtle change had come into his face; its leanness struck her for the
first time; that, and an utter detachment from his surroundings, a
sombre oblivion to everything--and to her.

How curiously had his face altered, how shadowy it had grown, effacing
the charm of youth, in it.

The slight amusement with which she had become conscious of her own