"Yet what changes may soon pass over the placid scene!"
"Yes, but don't think of them."
"Well, I won't—not now. Yes, you are becoming very penetrating. I am not exerting myself in the least to give you a pleasant time. I am just selfishly and lazily content."
"That fact gives me so much more than content that it makes me happy."
"Hobart, you are the most unselfish man I ever knew."
"Nonsense!"
They had reached their picnic-ground—the edge of a grove whose bright-hued foliage still afforded a grateful shade. The horse was unharnessed and picketed so that he might have a long range for grazing. Then Martine brought the provision basket to the foot of a great oak, and sat down to wait for Helen, who had wandered away in search of wild flowers. At last she came with a handful of late-blooming closed gentians.
"I thought these would make an agreeable feature in your lunch."
"Oh, you are beginning to exert yourself."
"Yes, I have concluded to, a little. So must you, to the extent of making a fire. The rest will be woman's work. I propose to drink your health in a cup of coffee."