I looked up in some surprise. “Should I not be content?” I said. “For here are you, beside me, and before us is spread a picture of peace that changes with each moment that passes. Look at that tranquil water, Eve, with its long tongue of blue that marks the current. Should I not be content?”
“Yes, yes,” she answered, “I hope so. I trust so, always—with me beside you. I would not have it otherwise. But even the tranquil water has its current. Let us dig, too.”
I laughed—as quietly as I could, for I would not break that tranquillity. She had me there.
“What a governess!” I said. “She has her way always. Well, then, let us dig—though it seems a pity to disturb the clams.”
“They live in eternal darkness,” said Eve. “It is better for them to be disturbed. Besides, Adam, I came to dig. I got this gown on purpose.”
I had not noticed the gown. But she stood straight before me, and I looked her up and down, as she would have me. Truly, I could see no difference between that gown and any other—save that it was shorter. But Eve would look adorable in any—and it was the woman that I saw.
I said as much. “To tell the truth,” I said, “I did not see your gown. What does it matter what you wear?”
“To dig?” she said, reproving. “Have you forgotten, Adam? Surely you would not have your wife drip salt water upon her best dress and spot it?”
As she spoke she looked at me, and I saw that in her eyes that brought me up upon one knee. At least I might kiss her hand, with Old Goodwin pottering about my clam beds. He considerately turned his back upon us.
And so we digged for clams, too, until the light had faded from the western sky, and the twilight was almost gone. And when, at last, Old Goodwin turned and lumbered peacefully up the bank and sat him down to become once more Goodwin the Rich, behold, our basket was well filled. For Eve and I have but the one basket; and her back does not tire now.