"Verily, thou art a strange one," she answered, lowering her eyes in an almost obsequious manner. "Though the way thou useth the diminutive of my name is pleasant to my ear."
"Well, your pretty face is pleasant to my eyes, but it's certainly gotten me into a lot of trouble," Nat answered gruffly.
She looked downcast. "Truly I'm contrite if I have caused thee trouble." The penitent look on her face melted Nat's irritability.
"Let's eat," he said quickly. "You must be hungry. And while you eat, I'll try to explain what happened and maybe figure out what to do."
A week passed, and Nat still was undecided. He was puzzled by a strange restlessness that nagged at him constantly.
That is, he was puzzled until the first time he kissed her.
The difference in their backgrounds was vast. They were separated by centuries of time. But now, thrown together, facing a common fear of the past and the future, there could be only one outcome.
At the end of the first week, they were sitting on opposite sides of a beach fire. A soft breeze, blowing off the water, added a chill to the evening air. Abby rose to put another log on the fire. Nat stood up quickly to help her.
"Let me lift that, Abby," he said with an air of protection. "It's pretty heavy."
"Please, no," she answered in her quaint way. "'Tis nothing. I have lifted heavier burdens than this many times."