"They wouldn't let me," said Jenny, apparently not disappointed at being thus kept at home.
He sought to make the best of his disappointment.
"Even if you could go, I am afraid you never would be quiet, Jenny."
"I'm afraid I wouldn't," Jenny replied, responsive to every suggestion.
He lingered, tenderly disturbed by her: the roots of the future were growing in him this morning. He was changing, he was changing her: there was an outreaching of his nature to draw her into the future alongside him.
Jenny suddenly stopped dancing and came closer to the fence, having all at once become more conscious of Webster, standing there as he had never stood before, looking at her as he had never looked. Her nature was of yielding sweetness, clasping trust. She glanced around the cottage windows: the situation was very exposed. Webster glanced at the cottage windows: the situation did not appear in the least exposed. Her eyes became more round with an idea:
"Are you coming back this way?"
"I will come back this way."
Jenny danced away from the fence, laughing excitedly: "Will it be late?"