"'Tis that I would not jostle you."
"And the sand is ill-going, belike, Martin?"
"Most true!" says I, pretending to stumble.
"Why then, I pray you take your time." At this I ventured to glance down at her, but saw no more than the curve of a cheek and the tip of a little ear; and staring at this came very near blundering into a rock. So I bore her into the rocky cleft already full of shadow, taking due heed in my going yet mighty conscious of all the yielding softness of her none the less.
"Your clothes are very damp!" says I.
"They will be dry ere morning," she answered, her voice muffled.
"I had best light a fire then!"
"There is no need, 'tis very warm, I do think."
"'Tis good against wild beasts and the like," says I.
"Why then, as you will, Martin."