“I am sure,” I said; “and besides, I shall not tell him.”
“It is very dark,” she observed. “The twilight is quite gone.”
“Not quite gone. See the west.” Indeed, there was a light streak in the west, and the bearded hill was marked against it.
“I must go in,” she said; but she did not rise.
“Not yet,” I urged.
“I must go in,” she repeated, “or they will send for me.” And this time she rose.
“I will go with you,” I insisted.
“No,” she said, “you will stay. Good-night, fisherman.”
“Adam,” I corrected. “Governesses should have better memories.”
She laughed. I loved to hear her laugh, and I would have seen her eyes.