The sun shone down on them; the life-giving breeze blew round them; they

were alone together among the flowers and the scented herbs. They

worked side by side, laughing over their efforts, comparing their

takings, gloating over the quickly-filling basket like a couple of

children recognising each other as playmates, and disdaining the

ordinary preliminaries of acquaintanceship.

"It's so kind of you to help me!" said the man.

"It's so kind of you to let me!" returned the maid.

"I--I have noticed that you seem always to be helping people."

"I didn't think you noticed anything at all!"

He had not intended to say so much. She did not stop to consider what

she was implying. Both blushed, relapsed into silence, and picked fruit

assiduously for several moments, before beginning again-"I am afraid this picnic will be a great bore to you."

"Indeed, I think it is going to be a pleasure. I should have thought of

it before, but that sort of thing does not come easily to me. I have

lived too much alone!"

"You have your work--you have been absorbed in your work."

"Have I? I'm afraid that is not altogether true!"

Margot glanced up surprised, met the dark eyes fixed full upon her, and

looked hurriedly away.

"I have been finding it increasingly difficult to be absorbed," he

continued dreamily. "I have heard you all laughing and talking together

downstairs, and my thoughts have wandered. Once you sang... Do you

remember that wet afternoon when you sang? I did not seem able to write

at all that afternoon."

The basket was full of fruit by now; Margot lifted it by one handle;

George Elgood lifted it by the other. They walked down the sunlit

garden into the house.




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