I wasn't thinking, or I would never have
sent you that way."
"Why not? It was a very good way."
"Yes. But you were going down into the thick of the fog. You might
easily have walked over the cliff--and broken your neck."
He laughed as if that was the most delightfully humorous idea.
"I don't know," said he, "that it would have mattered very much if I
had."
She said nothing. She never did when he made these excursions into the
personal. Of course it would not have mattered to Miss Harden if he
had gone over the cliff. He had been guilty, not only of an
unpardonable social solecism, but of a still more unpardonable
platitude.
They had reached the top of the cliff, and Lucia stood still.
"Isn't there another short cut cut across the valley?" he asked.
"There is; but I don't advise you to try it. And there is a way round
by the road--if you can find it."
He smiled. Had he tried to approach her too soon, and was she
reminding him that short cuts are dangerous? There was a way round--if
he could find it. If indeed!
"Oh, I shall find it all right," said he, inspired by his double
meaning.
"I don't think you will, if the fog lasts. I am going that way and I
had better show you."
Show him? Was it possible?
She led the way, all too swiftly, yet with a certain leisure in her
haste. He followed with a shy delight.
He was familiar enough by this time with her indoor aspect, with her
unique and perfect manner of sitting still; now he saw that her beauty
was of that rare kind that is most beautiful in movement.
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