"One can live on it," agreed the girl.
"Don't expect me to; I feel wonderful pangs already. Gramercy Park had nearly cured me of eating."
He smiled down at his companion in the roseate veil tied under her chin, and she glanced up at the city pallor of his face. "I should think it might," she agreed. "Wait a week. We shall both look like tomatoes and feel like disembodied spirits."
"I'm afraid I behaved like the latter, coming down the bay; but really I forgot everything. I want to study the boat-tables and go back to some of those wonderful shores."
Kathleen smiled demurely. "This doesn't cut much of a figure by contrast, does it?" she said.
They were crossing diagonally through a green field which led gently up to the island road.
"It's beautifully fresh here," replied Phil politely, looking about the bare treeless expanse rolling up to a bluff against illimitable sky.
A village store upon the road, a little school-house and a cottage or two, were all that was to be seen.
Above, on Mrs. Wright's doorstep, Eliza Brewster was standing, opera glass in hand, watching the tall figure and the rosy veil coming up through the field. She had restrained herself from running down to the road, for she dreaded Mrs. Fabian, and Phil for the moment had forgotten that Eliza might be in the neighborhood. His eyes brightened as they reached the road. He had been privately wondering why the Fabians had chosen this unpromising island as their abiding place. Now he caught sight of the spreading cove, its brilliant banks dark with evergreen trees, while in sheltered spots maples and birches stood amid a riot of shrubs inviting the birds.