“It’s so beautiful that it makes one’s heart ache!” she exclaimed, laying her hand on her breast with the little foreign turn of gesture she derived from her French ancestry.
She said no more, but remained very still, drinking in the sheer loveliness of the scene.
The man regarded her quietly as she stood there silhouetted against the skyline, her slim, brown-clad figure striking a warm note amid the chill Alpine whites and greys. Her face was slightly tilted, and as the sunshine glinted on her hair and eyes, waking the russet lights that slumbered in them, there was something vividly arresting about her—a splendour of ardent youth which brought a somewhat wistful expression into the rather weary eyes of the man watching her.
His thought travelled hack to the brief snatch of conversation evoked by the sudden gloom of the pine-woods. Surely, for once, Fate would lay aside her snuffers and let this young, eager life pass by unshadowed!
Even as the thought took shape in his mind, Jean turned to him again, her face still radiant, “Thank you for bringing me up here,” she said simply. “It has been perfect.”
She stretched out her hand, and he took it and held it in his for a moment.
“I’m glad you’ve liked it,” he answered quietly. “It will always be a part of our day together—the day we stole from les convenances”—he smiled whimsically. “And now, if you can bring yourself back to more prosaic matters, I suggest we have lunch. Scenery, however fine, isn’t exactly calculated to sustain life.”
“Most material person!” She laughed up at him. “I suppose you think a ham sandwich worth all the scenery in the world?”
“I’ll admit to a preference for the sandwich at the moment,” he acknowledged. “Come, now, confess! Aren’t you hungry, too?”
“Starving! This air makes me feel as if I’d never had anything to eat in my life before!”