She went inland, across the stream, and took a footpath
back to the shore. No pines grew on that side, where the soil was
richer--of a ruddy brown. The second crops of clover were already high;
in them humblebees were hard at work; and, above, the white-throated
swallows dipped and soared. Gyp gathered a bunch of chicory flowers.
She was close above the shore before she saw him standing in the rock
archway, looking for her across the beach. After the hum of the bees and
flies, it was very quiet here--only the faintest hiss of tiny waves. He
had not yet heard her coming, and the thought flashed through her: 'If
I take another step, it is for ever! She stood there scarcely breathing,
the chicory flowers held before her lips. Then she heard him sigh, and,
moving quickly forward, said:
"Here I am."
He turned round, seized her hand, and, without a word, they passed
through the archway. They walked on the hard sand, side by side, till he
said:
"Let's go up into the fields."
They scrambled up the low cliff and went along the grassy top to a
gate into a stubble field. He held it open for her, but, as she passed,
caught her in his arms and kissed her lips as if he would never stop. To
her, who had been kissed a thousand times, it was the first kiss. Deadly
pale, she fell back from him against the gate; then, her lips still
quivering, her eyes very dark, she looked at him distraught with
passion, drunk on that kiss.
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