"
"You're a dear!"
She went to wash in the brook, and came back with eyes dancing
and hair trim, and they laughed over breakfast, glancing down
the slope of golden hazy fields. Only once did Istra pass out
of the land of their intimacy into some hinterland of
analysis--when she looked at him as he drank his tea aloud out
of the stew-pan, and wondered: "Is this really you here with
me? But you _aren't_ a boulevardier. I must say I don't
understand what you're doing here at all.... Nor a caveman,
either. I don't understand it.... But you _sha'n't_ be worried
by bad Istra. Let's see; we went to grammar-school together."
"Yes, and we were in college. Don't you remember when I was
baseball captain? You don't? Gee, you got a bad memory!"
At which she smiled properly, and they were away for Suffolk again.
"I suppose now it'll go and rain," said Istra, viciously, at
dusk. It was the first time she had spoken for a mile. Then,
after another quarter-mile: "Please don't mind my being silent.
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