So he rose and led the horses to a tree a few paces off and tied them there. When he came back he found her swinging her little boots over a still pool in an alcove of the brook. Its quiet surface mirrored her feet from beneath quaintly. "We're at the antipodes already," he laughed. She put out her hand beggingly.
"It's secluded enough for a smoke. Can you give me a cigarette? I forgot mine." He had nothing but a cigar, and she ventured a puff or two of that, then gave it back and sighed, "I wish we were married and all."
"Why?"
"I'd take off my boots and dip my poor aching feet in that water."
"Why don't you?"
"In the first place, I don't know you well enough to go barefoot before you. In the second, somebody would be sure to come along."
"THERE'S THAT OTHER ME DOWN IN THE POOL, WATCHING THIS ME"