He never had talked to her of personal affairs before, it was Mrs. Leroy who had told her what she knew.
“There are several purchasers looking at the place we are going to sell, for dwellers in Colchis, you know, are only sojourners; they long for home.”
“The Jasons, too?”
“This Jason at any rate. He wants four seasons to his year, and to hear his horse’s feet on pike, and to put his seed into loam.”
They slipped through the next lock and out upon the long length of Cherokee, the lake of the island which was their destination. It seemed to bring self-consciousness upon the speaker.
“You are so the same as you used to be,” he said, “I forget. How do I know you want to hear all this?”
“You do know,” said Alexina, honestly.
He did not answer. They were coming up to the other boats now, beached at the island. Lights were flickering up and down the sand and the rosy glare of a beach fire shone out from under the darkness of the trees. Figures were moving between it and them and they could hear voices and laughter.
“You do know,” repeated the girl.
They had grounded. He was shipping the oars. Then he got up and held out a hand to steady her. She, standing, put hers into it. They did not look at each other.