After a time she came near him. "Why aren't you playing with the other boys?" she asked.
Paul sat on his heels. "Dunno, miss," he said shyly.
She glanced at his rapscallion attire, blushed, and blamed herself for the tactless question. "This is a beautiful place, isn't it?"
"It's heavenly," said Paul, with his eyes on her.
"One scarcely wants to do anything but just-just-well, be here." She smiled.
He nodded and said, "Ay!" Then he grew bolder. "I like being alone," he declared defiantly.
"Then I'll leave you," she laughed.
The blood flushed deep under his unwashed olive skin, and he leaped to his feet. "Aw didn't mean that!" he protested hotly. "It wur them other boys."
She was touched by his beauty and quick sensitiveness. "I was only teasing. I'm sure you like being with me."
Paul had never heard such exquisite tones from human lips. To his ears, accustomed to the harsh Lancashire burr, her low, accentless voice was music. So another of his senses was caught in the enchantment.