"Look there!" he exclaimed, gazing toward the house.
She turned, saw a figure at the east corner of the house, apparently looking toward where they were standing. The figure moved. "Nanny," she said under her breath. "I must go."
He caught her to his breast; for an instant they clung together, then with a last lingering handclasp, she left him, to emerge from the deep shadow of the trees and stroll back across the lawn. Presently she pretended to catch sight of Nanny, halted, changed her course, went toward her. "What is it, Nanny?" she asked.
Nanny turned without a word, started to go back toward her kitchen.
"Nanny!" said she sharply.
The old woman stopped, turned.
"What do you mean by not answering me when I speak to you?"
"I didn't know as you expected an answer," replied Nanny, sullen and cowed, but insolent underneath.
"I asked you what you were doing here?"
The two women looked straight into each other's eyes. "I just came out to get a breath of air—like you," said Nanny. "I don't see as there's any harm in that."