Leaving the beach, they clambered up the rocks, to the higher land, where they found an abundance of coarse grass with ravines and hollows choked up with a luxuriant growth of tropical vegetation. They entered a dense wood, almost impenetrable with tangled foliage, thick undergrowth, and hidden roots of trees. Carefully, he made a path for her, and once, when they came to a running stream with no way to ford it, he had to lift her up in his strong arms and take her across like a baby. Soon they came to a clearing, sweet with the odor of wild orchids and jasmine. Through the thick foliage of the spreading trees they had glimpses of the shimmering surface of the turquoise-blue sea. They sat down in the grass, glad to rest after their exertions, and when they got hungry they ate the provisions Grace had thoughtfully provided. It was a delightful picnic, and Grace laughed with glee.
Armitage had plucked a plantain and was eating the fruit when suddenly he stopped and looked fixedly at her.
"Why do you look at me like that?" she asked roguishly.
"Because you are nice to look at," he answered gravely. "I look at the sea because it is beautiful. I look at you. You are beautiful."
She laughed and reddened. The compliment was clumsy, but it pleased her because she knew he meant it. To her it sounded better than any of the compliments paid her in New York's drawing-rooms. To change the conversation she said:
"I wonder if we shall ever get away from here?"
He said nothing, but his eyes sought hers. After a pause, he said boldly:
"I don't know. To be quite honest, I'm in no hurry. I'm very happy here."
Grace made no reply. This time she did not even seem angry.