"How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
"And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
"I am my beloved's, and his desire is towards me.
"I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine."
The influence of air, sky, evening sun, and the peace that lay over the land reinforced the unmoral suggestions of the verses that had leapt in her memory. Her blood quickened; she sighed, and then sat by the rushes that, just here, invaded the towpath.
As Perigal strolled towards her, his personality caused that old, odd feeling of helplessness to steal over her. She, almost, felt as if she were a fly gradually being bound by a greedy spider's web.
He stood by her for a few moments without speaking.
"You've broken your promise," he presently remarked.
"Haven't you, too?" she asked, without looking up.
"No."