He cast a glance at the woods that bordered the road on either side. “That weird forest—I shall never forget it.”
“No; it was something to remember,” she said.
“And the blueberry patch? We mustn't forget the blueberry patch.”
“There were a great many blueberries.”
She walked on, and he said, “And that bridge—you don't have that feeling of having been here before?”
“No.”
“Am I walking too fast for you, Miss Pasmer?”
“No; I like to walk fast.”
“But wouldn't you like to sit down? On this wayside log, for example?” He pointed it out with his stick. “It seems to invite repose, and I know you must be tired.”
“I'm not tired.”