"I don't know," said he, "that it would have mattered very much if I had."
She said nothing. She never did when he made these excursions into the personal. Of course it would not have mattered to Miss Harden if he had gone over the cliff. He had been guilty, not only of an unpardonable social solecism, but of a still more unpardonable platitude.
They had reached the top of the cliff, and Lucia stood still.
"Isn't there another short cut cut across the valley?" he asked.
"There is; but I don't advise you to try it. And there is a way round by the road—if you can find it."
He smiled. Had he tried to approach her too soon, and was she reminding him that short cuts are dangerous? There was a way round—if he could find it. If indeed!
"Oh, I shall find it all right," said he, inspired by his double meaning.
"I don't think you will, if the fog lasts. I am going that way and I had better show you."
Show him? Was it possible?
She led the way, all too swiftly, yet with a certain leisure in her haste. He followed with a shy delight.