Then, in spite of her peasant's dress, he recognized her; and he walked swiftly forward to meet her. The figure out there in the sunshine saw him coming and lifted one arm in distant recognition and salute.
They met in mid-meadow, Warner and the girl Philippa.
Her short skirt and low peasant bodice had faded to a rose-geranium tint; her white chemisette, laced with black, was open wide below the throat. Black velvet straps crossed it on the shoulders and around the cuffs. Her hair was tied with a big black silk bow.
"How in the world did you come to be here?" he asked, not yet releasing the eager, warm little hands so frankly clasped between both of his.
Philippa laughed with sheerest happiness:
"Figurez-vous, Monsieur. I have been punting since early morning; and when I found myself so near to Saïs I was ready to drop with heat and fatigue: 'Mais, n'importe! Allons!' I said to myself. 'Courage, little one! Very soon you shall see Mr. Warner painting a noble picture by the river!' Et puis——" She tightened her clasp on his hands with an adorable laugh, "Nous voici enfin ensemble—tous les deux—vous et moi! Et je suis bien content et bien fatiguée."
"But, Philippa—how in the world do you propose to get back to Ausone tonight?"
She shrugged, looked up as though protesting to the very skies:
"I have this instant arrived, and his first inquiry is concerning my departure! That is not a very friendly welcome."
"Philippa, I am glad to see you——"