So lost were they that the touching of the boat and the bank made them start.
"So soon," murmured Stella. "How beautiful it is! I think I was dreaming."
"And I know that I was," he said, with a subtle significance, as he rose and held out his hand. But Stella sprang lightly on shore without accepting it. He tied up the boat and followed her; she was already on her knee, picking the yellow primroses.
Without a word, he followed her example. Sometimes they were so near together that she could feel his breath stirring her hair—so near that their hands almost met.
At last she sank on to the mossy ground with a laugh, and, pointing to her hat, which was full of the spring earth-stars, said laughingly:
"What ruthless pillage! Do not pick any more; it is wanton waste!"
"Are you sure you have plenty?" he said. "Why hesitate when there are such millions?"
"No, no more!" she said. "I feel guilty already!"
He glanced at the handful he had gathered, and she saw the glance and laughed.
"You do not know what to do with those you have, and still want more. See, you must tie them in bundles.