She looked round into his face.
"Jon, you're rather a darling."
And she pressed his hand against her waist. Jon almost reeled with happiness. A yellow-and-white dog coursing a hare startled them apart. They watched the two vanish down the slope, till Fleur said with a sigh: "He'll never catch it, thank goodness! What's the time? Mine's stopped. I never wound it."
Jon looked at his watch. "By Jove!" he said, "mine's stopped, too."
They walked on again, but only hand in hand.
"If the grass is dry," said Fleur, "let's sit down for half a minute."
Jon took off his coat, and they shared it.
"Smell! Actually wild thyme!"
With his arm round her waist again, they sat some minutes in silence.
"We are goats!" cried Fleur, jumping up; "we shall be most fearfully late, and look so silly, and put them on their guard. Look here, Jon! We only came out to get an appetite for breakfast, and lost our way. See?"