"When shall I see you again?"

They dropped into a long silence. She summoned her coquetry that she
called pride. The blue, blue forest at the edge of her sight tilted a
little like a ship, the watery hill-country rolled towards it in
mysterious kilometres.

"It is beautiful," she said clumsily, avoiding his question, ignoring
it. "Yet when I go there it is always more beautiful on the next hill.'

"I must hurry," he said at once, "I shall be late at my office."

"Where is your office?"

He looked round vaguely. "There in that group of pines." They walked
towards it, they were almost at the door, but he would not repeat his
question. Would he not at the last moment? No. Had it not then been
clear that the living happiness was at her lips? No. Could he let her
go, could it have been a failure? He was holding out one of the stone
hands. He was going.

She looked up and the sun was streaming in his eyes, blinding him, and
without seeing her he stared into the darkness that was her face. "I
have so enjoyed my walk," he said. "Thank you for coming."

All her face said "Oh!" in a hurt, frightened stare, but the sun only
came round the edges of her hair and cap and left the panic in a
shifting darkness. He was gone.