Yet it had all seemed so good to her in the past; broken only by little bursts of wonder and wish concerning that outside world.
"Do we ever learn how to live ?" she asked.

"Don't we just go on from one thing to another, picking our way, but never knowing quite what to do, because we don't know what's ahead?
I believe we never do learn how to live," she added, half-smiling, yet a little pensive too; "but I am so very ignorant, and--" She stopped, for suddenly it flashed upon her: here she was baring her childish heart--he would think it childish, she was sure he would--everything she thought, to a man she had never known till to-day.
No, no, she was wrong; she had known him, but it was only as Philip, the boy who had saved her life.

And the Philip of her memory was only a picture, not a being; something to think about, not something to speak with, to whom she might show her heart.

She flushed hotly and turned her shoulder on him.

Her eyes followed a lizard creeping up the stones.