, the apples mellowing, robins
singing already, a few slumberous, soft clouds, a pale blue sky, a
smiling sea. 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. And, suddenly turning round to the gate, she laid
her arms on the top bar and buried her face on them. A sob came up in
her throat that seemed to tear her to bits, and she cried as if her heart
would break. His timid despairing touches, his voice close to her ear:

"Gyp, Gyp! My darling! My love! Oh, don't, Gyp!" were not of the least
avail; she could not stop. That kiss had broken down something in her
soul, swept away her life up to that moment, done something terrible and
wonderful. At last, she struggled out:

"I'm sorry--so sorry! Don't--don't look at me! Go away a little, and
I'll--I'll be all right."

He obeyed without a word, and, passing through the gate, sat down on the
edge of the cliff with his back to her, looking out over the sea.

Gripping the wood of the old grey gate till it hurt her hands, Gyp gazed
at the chicory flowers and poppies that had grown up again