‘So I see.’
‘And I happen to have come to the next bush to yours.’
‘So I see; but not the reason why.’
Anne was now in the westernmost branches of the bush, and Bob had leant across into the eastern branches of his. In gathering he swayed towards her, back again, forward again.
‘I beg pardon,’ he said, when a further swing than usual had taken him almost in contact with her.
‘Then why do you do it?’
‘The wind rocks the bough, and the bough rocks me.’ She expressed by a look her opinion of this statement in the face of the gentlest breeze; and Bob pursued: ‘I am afraid the berries will stain your pretty hands.’
‘I wear gloves.’
‘Ah, that’s a plan I should never have thought of. Can I help you?’
‘Not at all.’