"Yes. . . . The sun has nearly set, Mr. Marque."
"Then perhaps when to-morrow is to-day you will be able to promise——"
"Perhaps. Have you caught any fish?"
After a moment he said: "How did you know I was fishing? You didn't turn to look."
She said coolly: "How did you know I didn't?"
"You never do."
She said nothing.
At her window, elbows on the sill, the blossoms in her window-box brushing his sunburnt face, he stood, legs crossed, pipe in hand, the sunset wind stirring the curly hair at his temples.
"Did you hear the bird this evening?" he asked.
"Yes. Isn't he a perfect darling!"