They went down a little path bordered with grass and under green budding twigs. It came to a stile finally and looked out upon a stony green field where some cows were pasturing.
"Oh, the spring! The spring!" exclaimed Eugene, and Suzanne answered: "You know, Mr. Witla, I think we must be something alike in some ways. That's just the way I feel."
"How do you know how I feel?"
"I can tell by your voice," she said.
"Can you, really?"
"Why, yes. Why shouldn't I?"
"What a strange girl you are!" he said thoughtfully. "I don't think I understand you quite."
"Why, why, am I so different from everyone else?"
"Quite, quite," he said; "at least to me. I have never seen anyone quite like you before."