"Do you like nature?" he asked.
"Do I?" she returned. "I can't get enough of the woods these days. I feel so queer sometimes, Mr. Witla. As though I were not really alive at all, you know. Just a sound, or a color in the woods."
He stopped and looked at her. The simile caught him quite as any notable characteristic in anyone would have caught him. What was the color and complexity of this girl's mind? Was she so wise, so artistic and so emotional that nature appealed to her in a deep way? Was this wonderful charm that he felt the shadow or radiance of something finer still?
"So that's the way it is, is it?" he asked.
"Yes," she said quietly.
He sat and looked at her, and she eyed him as solemnly.
"Why do you look at me so?" she asked.
"Why do you say such curious things?" he answered.
"What did I say?"
"I don't believe you really know. Well, never mind. Let us walk, will you? Do you mind? It's still an hour to dinner. I'd like to go over and see what's beyond those trees."