They were sitting on a grassy slope, looking over a wide valley where blue mists lay. A little wind was blowing, and the upper air was clear. The grass on which they sat was short. It was full of innumerable small white and purple anemones. Elizabeth was sitting on the grass, watching the flowers, and touching first one and then another with the tips of her fingers.
“All these little white ones have a violet stain at the back of each petal,” was the last thing that she had said, but when David spoke she looked up, a little startled.
He was lying full length on a narrow ledge just above her, with his cap over his eyes to shield them from the sun, which was very bright.
“How did you do it, Elizabeth?” said David Blake.
Elizabeth hesitated. She could not see his face.
“What do you mean?”
“How did you do it? Was it hypnotism?”
“Oh, no—” There was real horror in her voice.
“It must have been.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she said: