"I don't wonder you like it up here," he said, looking off over the sparkling water. "If we had this in the centre of the desert...."
"I suppose it would make a difference." All at once she pictured the desert. She pictured herself living in the midst of the desert with Lynndal.
Then the dry-farming expert went on to explain, at some length, just what would happen were this sea to be transported to the parched heart of Arizona. The words began falling a little dully on her ears. She was vaguely troubled. But she could not tell just why it should be so.
There was a silence. They walked along slowly side by side. A wave of happiness stole upon the man; his hand, encountering hers, closed over it tenderly.
She caught her breath a little. "Lynndal," she cautioned, "you mustn't...."
But he clung to her hand. He had come so far! And again she seemed to hear those terrible words booming in her ears: "You are mine, all mine!"
Slowly his arm crept round her waist. There was nothing overwhelming about the action: Barry was not an overwhelming man, and had not an overwhelming way with him. His was, rather, a kind of gentle, furtive passion, which displayed itself in a very slight trembling, an occasional queer huskiness of voice.
All at once Louise grew alarmed. It seemed to her that a terrible and inevitable moment had come. She wasn't entirely prepared. She must have more time ...!
"Please take your arm away, Lynndal," she said tensely.
"But why, dear?"