"They say she is very handsome," said I.
"Then they speak truth, sir."
"She has been described to me," I went on, "as a Peach, a Goddess, and a Plum; which should you consider the most proper term?" My companion shot an arch glance at me from the corners of her eyes, and I saw a dimple come and go, beside the curve of her mouth.
"Goddess, to be sure," said she; "peaches have such rough skins, and plums are apt to be sticky."
"And goddesses," I added, "were all very well upon Olympus, but, in this matter-of-fact age, must be sadly out of place. Speaking for myself—"
"Have you ever seen this particular Goddess?" inquired my companion.
"Never."
"Then wait until you have, sir."
The moon was down now, yet the summer sky was wonderfully luminous and in the east I almost fancied I could detect the first faint gleam of day. And after we had traversed some distance in silence, my companion suddenly spoke, but without looking at me.
"You have never once asked who I am," she said, almost reproachfully I thought, "nor how I came to be shut up in such a place—with such a man."