We loved each other, we loved everybody.
Harris, in moving about, trod on George's corn. Had this happened before
supper, George would have expressed wishes and desires concerning
Harris's fate in this world and the next that would have made a
thoughtful man shudder.
As it was, he said: "Steady, old man; `ware wheat."
And Harris, instead of merely observing, in his most unpleasant tones,
that a fellow could hardly help treading on some bit of George's foot, if
he had to move about at all within ten yards of where George was sitting,
suggesting that George never ought to come into an ordinary sized boat
with feet that length, and advising him to hang them over the side, as he
would have done before supper, now said: "Oh, I'm so sorry, old chap; I
hope I haven't hurt you."
And George said: "Not at all;" that it was his fault; and Harris said no,
it was his.
It was quite pretty to hear them.
We lit our pipes, and sat, looking out on the quiet night, and talked.
George said why could not we be always like this - away from the world,
with its sin and temptation, leading sober, peaceful lives, and doing
good. I said it was the sort of thing I had often longed for myself; and
we discussed the possibility of our going away, we four, to some handy,
well-fitted desert island, and living there in the woods.
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