"Three pounds, fifteen shillings, and—sevenpence is not a great sum," said I, "but perhaps it will enable you to reach your family."
"I'm afraid not; you see I have no family."
"Your friends, then."
"I have no friends; I am alone in the world."
"Oh!" said I, and turned to stare down into the brook, for I could think only that she was alone and solitary, even as I, which seemed like an invisible bond between us, drawing us each nearer the other, whereat I felt ridiculously pleased that this should be so.
"No," said Charmian, still intent upon the twig, "I have neither friends nor family nor money, and so being hungry—I came back here, and ate up all the bacon."
"Why, I hadn't left much, if I remember."
"Six slices!"
Now, as she stood, half in shadow, half in moonlight, I could not help but be conscious of her loveliness. She was no pretty woman; beneath the high beauty of her face lay a dormant power that is ever at odds with prettiness, and before which I felt vaguely at a loss. And yet, because of her warm beauty, because of the elusive witchery of her eyes, the soft, sweet column of the neck and the sway of the figure in the moonlight—because she was no goddess, and I no shepherd in Arcadia, I clasped my hands behind me, and turned to look down into the stream.
"Indeed," said I, speaking my thought aloud, "this is no place for a woman, after all."