“Why?”
“Why am I, I?—I can’t explain. I only know that my friends will tell you that I am insensible to beauty of scenery.”
“Rank heresy.”
“I don’t know. It has been dinned into my ears so constantly that I have ended by accepting it. They assure me I have no eye for colour.”
“I could confute them.”
“Oh, once let me feel sure of myself, and I could manage the confuting,” said Anne coolly. “After to-day I shall not go down before them quite so easily, for I believe it is the colour which enchants me. Was ever anything so exquisite as this crater!”
“I am glad you have extracted some compensation for my stupidity,” said Wareham, greedy of assurance that she liked to be in the boat with him. She took no notice beyond saying—
“I still think they behaved rather meanly in deserting us.”
“What are they feeling now, I wonder?”
“As little as possible.”