But
there was none, so he kept it there and they walked on. Their talk was
fragmentary, murmured sentences that they forgot to finish, phrases
trailing off into silence as if they had not clear enough wits to fit
words together, or as if words were not necessary when at last their
spirits communed. Responding to the instigation of the romantic hour
the young girl felt an almost sleepy content. The arm on which she
leaned spoke of strength, it symbolized a protection she would have
repudiated in the practical, sustaining sunshine, but that now was very
sweet.
David walked in a vision. Was it Susan, this soft and docile being,
close against his side, her head moving slowly as her eyes ranged over
the magical prospect? He was afraid to speak for fear the spell would
break. He did not know which way his feet bore him, but blindly went
on, looking down at the profile almost against his shoulder, at the
hand under which his had slid, small and white in the transforming
light. His silence was not like hers, the expression of a temporary,
lulled tranquility. He had passed the stage when he could delay to
rejoice in lovely moments.
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