Presently she spoke, calling his name, as if out of the far-off unutterable peace.
"Walter, it was kind of you to bring me here."
"I am so glad you like it."
"I do indeed."
He tried to say more, but his heart choked him.
She closed her eyes, and the peace poured over her, and sank in. Her heart beat quietly.
She opened her eyes and turned them on her husband. She knew that it was his gaze that had compelled them to open. She smiled to herself, like a young girl, shyly but happily aware of him, and turned from him to her contemplation of the woods.
Anne had always rather prided herself on her susceptibility to the beauty of nature, but it had never before reached her with this poignant touch. Hitherto she had drawn it in with her eyes only; now it penetrated her through every nerve. She was vaguely but deliciously aware of her own body as a part of it, and of her husband's joy in contemplating her.
"He thinks me good-looking," she said to herself, and the thought came to her as a revelation.
Then her young memory woke again and thrust at her.