It was not usual at this time to see pedestrians in that place. Now and then a workman took a short cut—or on warm days there were picnic parties—but to follow the rough paths in winter was a bleak and arduous adventure.
He stayed for a moment to watch her, then suddenly left his car and ran. The girl in the blue hat had caught her high heels in a root, had stumbled and fallen.
When he reached her, she was struggling to her feet. He helped her, and picked up the bag which she had dropped.
“Thank you so much.” Her voice was low and pleasing. He saw that she was young, that her skin was very fair, and that the hair which swept over her ears was pale gold, but most of all, he saw that her eyes were burning blue. He had never seen eyes quite like them. The old poets would have called them sapphire, but sapphires do not flame.
“It was so silly of me to try to do it,” she was protesting, “but I thought it might be a short cut——”
He wondered what her destination might be that this remote path should lead to it. But all he said was, “High heels aren’t made for—mountain climbing——”
“They aren’t made for anything,” she said, looking down at the steel-buckled slippers, “useful.”
“Let me help you up the hill.”
“I don’t want to go up.”
He surveyed the steep incline. “I am perfectly sure you don’t want to go down.”