“I don't know. They say they're bad.”
He laughed. “Do they? We'll go and see, shall we?”
She flushed at the suggestion, and turned her face to his. “You never heard, I suppose—I come from there. They brought me down when I was little.”
“You?” He raised himself on his elbow, looking at her with sudden interest. “You're from the Mountain? How curious! I suppose that's why you're so different....”
Her happy blood bathed her to the forehead. He was praising her—and praising her because she came from the Mountain!
“Am I... different?” she triumphed, with affected wonder.
“Oh, awfully!” He picked up her hand and laid a kiss on the sunburnt knuckles.
“Come,” he said, “let's be off.” He stood up and shook the grass from his loose grey clothes. “What a good day! Where are you going to take me tomorrow?”