"Isn't it getting a little dark for painting?" I said. "Are you sure
you won't catch cold? It's very damp."
"Perhaps it is. And it is late, too."
She shut her paint box and emptied the little mug on the grass.
"You will let me carry your things?" I said.
I think she hesitated, but only for a moment. I possessed myself of
the camp stool, and we started on our homeward journey. We were both
silent. The spell of the quiet summer evening was on us.
"'And all the air a solemn stillness holds,'" she said softly. "I love
this cliff, Mr. Garnet. It's the most soothing place in the world."
"I have found it so this evening."
She glanced at me quickly.
"You're not looking well," she said. "Are you sure you are not
overworking yourself?"
"No, it's not that."
Somehow we had stopped, as if by agreement, and were facing each
other. There was a look in her eyes I had never seen there before.
The twilight hung like a curtain between us and the world. We were
alone together in a world of our own.
"It is because I had displeased you," I said.
She laughed nervously.
"I have loved you ever since I first saw you," I said doggedly.