He was rather taken aback, but did not show it; his features were impassive, he also felt a tingling of the pulses, and his eyes showed that as he looked into hers.
"Come inside," he said; he led the way, he wanted time to think.
"This way," he continued. She followed him, a pace to the rear.
He led the way into the little office and pulled out a chair. "Sit down," he said.
She sat down, somewhat uncomfortably, somewhat nervously, as one who was not used to it.
Going to his coat hanging on the wall he took a packet of chocolate from it. She watched him with a sort of dog-like observance.
"Here you are," he said. He handed her the chocolate, drew another chair out, and sat down facing her.
"What have you been doing all day?"
"Gathering sticks," she answered. He noticed that she did not speak with her mouth full, it seemed a natural refinement, perhaps because she observed him carefully finish munching a piece of chocolate before he put the question to her—anyhow she did the same.
They sat and looked at each other in silence for some minutes. He was observing her very closely; he noticed that her hands were clean, comparatively; they were not large and very well shaped, it was obvious that she did not do much work; everything about her denoted natural grace and, it seemed to him, refinement; but ever and anon her eyes rolled widely round, taking in everything; in this confined atmosphere, sitting on this made-to-order chair, she was obviously not at ease.