"I don't call it 'roughing it' very badly, thank you. I enjoy it."
"Sporting of you," declared Harry, "but not a bit the sort of thing you used to be keen on, Joan. You've altered."
"Yes," I agreed quietly. "I think I have altered a good deal."
He sent one of those well-known glances of his from under the peak of his cap as he sat. "I needn't tell you how the life suits you, as far as looks go. I've never seen you with such a colour, and your hair's all full of those gold gleams I always thought so topping——"
For the first time in my life that caressing voice left me cold.
"That kit is jolly becoming to you."
"Yes?" I said politely. "I thought you admired pretty frocks."
"Those suited you, too. But in this you're a young Ceres."
"I'm afraid I've forgotten what those were."
"She was the goddess of Harvest or something," explained Harry, discomfited. "Somebody outdoor and glowing and rosy, with a lovely figure, if I may say so——"