He sat down on the grass a little apart from her, watching her face.
"You look very little older, Mary. There isn't a gray hair in your head. I've plenty."
"My hair's nondescript," she replied, still in an amaze. "It takes a long time to go gray. Why have you come here? Did they tell you at Bridnorth where I was?"
"Yes."
"Then why have you come?"
"I told you, to see you."
"But what about?"
He smiled again as he watched her.
"You haven't changed at all, Mary. The same directness; the same unimpressionable woman, the same insensitiveness to the delicate word. Does it give you no pleasure at all to think I should come back after all these years to see you?"
"Was I unimpressionable once?" she asked quietly, and took no notice of the latter part of his sentence.