"Yes——!"
"How do you know so much about us and our faults? I gathered, from what you said last night at dinner, that you have never been in England but once, for a month, when you were almost a child."
"The rarest specimens come abroad," and a dimple showed in her left cheek, "and I read about you in your best novels—even your authors unconsciously give you away and show your selfishness and arrogance and self-satisfaction."
"Shocking brutes, aren't we?"
"Perfectly."
Then they both laughed, and Sabine suggested it was time they returned to luncheon.
"It is quite two miles from here, and Mr. Cloudwater, although the kindest dear old gentleman, begins to get hungry at one o'clock."
So they turned and sauntered downwards through the lovely green woods, with the warm hum of insects and the soft summer, glancing sunshine. And all of you who know the beauties of Carlsbad, or indeed any other of those Bohemian spas, can just picture how agreeable was their walk, and how conducive to amiable discussion and the acceleration of friendship. Henry tried to get her to tell him some more of the secrets of her countrywomen, but she would not be serious. She was in a merry mood, and turned the fire into the enemy's camp, making him disclose the ways of Englishmen.
"I believe you like us as a rule because we are such casual creatures!" he said at last, "rather indifferent about petits soins, and apt to seize what we desire, or take it for granted."
A sudden shadow came into her face which puzzled him, and she did not answer, but went on to talk of Brittany and the place which she had bought. Héronac—just a weird castle perched right upon a rock above a fishing village, with the sea dashing at its base and the spray rising right to her sitting-room windows.