“He’s enjoying the scenery, too,” Shine answered, and saw her eyes travel to the two figures on the rock.
“Oh, that of course—that’s the best part of it.” Then in a tone of bright discovery: “Why look where Anne and Sybil are! Have they been there long?”
“Ever since I’ve been here.” Mrs. Cornell’s voice was more than soothing, bluffly reassuring as the voice of one who tells a child there is no ghost. “And ever since Mr. Shine got through the pictures! Wallowing in the beauties of nature like the rest of us.”
“Won’t you wallow, too?” Shine indicated the long unoccupied space on the step.
She shook her head:
“I like moving about. Something in this place gets on my nerves, it’s like being in a jail.” On a deep breath she shot out, “I hate it,” and stepped back into the room.
“Going?” Mrs. Cornell veered round to follow her retreating figure.
“Yes. I enjoy the scenery better when it hasn’t got people in it.”
They looked at each other; a still minute of eye communication.
“She’s all worked up,” he murmured.