'How like Agnes!' Mynors said.
'Yes. I was just thinking so,' Anna answered.
'I thought of her up on the hill,' he continued. 'She will miss you, won't she?'
'I know she cried herself to sleep last night. You mightn't guess it, but she is extremely sensitive.'
'Not guess it? Why not? I am sure she is. Do you know—I am very fond of your sister. She's a simply delightful child. And there's a lot in her, too. She's so quick and bright, and somehow like a little woman.'
'She's exactly like a woman sometimes,' Anna agreed. 'Sometimes I fancy she's a great deal older than I am.'
'Older than any of us,' he corrected.
'I'm glad you like her,' Anna said, content. 'She thinks all the world of you.' And she added: 'My word, wouldn't she be vexed if she knew I had told you that!'
This appreciation of Agnes brought them into closer intimacy, and they talked the more easily of other things.
'It will freeze to-night,' Mynors said; and then, suddenly looking at her in the twilight: 'You are feeling chill.'