f with hands that looked almost as
if they wore gloves, so deeply were they dyed by the sun. As the cloud
dispersed he emerged carrying their lunch in a straw pannier.

"Why trust--specially?" he said. "Ah," he threw himself down by her
side with a sigh of happiness, "this is good! The historic mound, and
we think of it merely as a resting-place, vandals that we are. But--why
trust?"

"I mean that Greece never keeps any unpleasant surprises up her sleeve,
surprises such as other countries have of noisy, intruding people. It's
terrible how accustomed I'm getting to having everything all to myself,
and how I simply love it."

He began slowly unpacking the pannier, and laying its contents out on
the mound.

"You're a puzzle, Rosamund," he said.

"Why?"

"You have a greater faculty for making yourself delightful to all sorts
of people than I have found in any other person, woman or man. And yet
you are developing a perfect passion for solitude."

"Do you want people here?"

"No."

"Then you agree with me."

"But you have an absolute lust for an empty world."

"Look!"

She stretched out her right arm--she was leaning on the other with her
cheek in her hand--and pointed to the crescent-shaped plain which
lay beyond them, bounded by a sea which was a wonder of sparkling and
intense blue, and guarded by a curving line of low hills. There were
some clouds in the sky, but the winds were at rest, and the clouds were
just white things dreaming. In the plain there were no trees. Here and
there some vague crops hinted at the languid labors of men. No human
beings were visible, but in the distance, not very far from the sea
edge, a few oxen were feeding. Their dark slow-moving bodies intersected
the blue. There were no ships or boats upon the stretch of sea which
Rosamund and Dion gazed at. Behind them the bare hills showed no sign of
life. The solitude was profound but not startling. It seemed in place,
necessary and beautiful. In the emptiness there was something touching,
something reticently satisfying. It was a land and seascape delicately
purged.

"Greece and solitude," said Rosamund. "I shall always connect them
together. I shall always love each for the other's sake."

In the silence which followed the words the far-off lowing of oxen came
to them over the flats. Rosamund shut her eyes, Dion half shut his, and
the empty world was a shining dream.

When they had lunched, Rosamund said:

"I am going to cli