There was a spring down there somewhere in that thicket of silver birches; probably one of the trespassers was drinking.

So, idly curious, he rode that way, his horse making no sound on the thick moss.
"If she's ornamental," he said to himself, "I'll linger to point out the sin of trespassing; that is if she is sufficiently ornamental--" His horse stepped on a dead branch which cracked; the girl in white, who had been looking out through the birch-trees across the valley, turned her head.
They recognised each other even at that distance; he uttered a low exclamation of satisfaction, sprang from his saddle, and led his horse down among the mossy rocks of the water-course to the shelf of rock overhanging the ravine where she stood as motionless as one of the silver saplings.
"Virginia," he said, humorously abashed, "shall I say I am glad to see you, and how d'you do, and offer you my hand ?--or had I better not ?" He thought she meant to answer; perhaps she meant to, but found no voice at her disposal.
He dropped his bridle over a branch and, drawing off his gloves, walked up to where she was standing.
"I knew you were at Pride's Hall," he said; "I'm aware, also, that nobody there either expected or wished to see me.

But I wanted to see you; and little things of that sort couldn't keep me away.

Where are the others ?" She strove twice to answer him, then turned abruptly, steadying herself against a birch-tree with one arm.
"Where are the others, Virginia ?" he asked gently.
"On the rocks beyond." "Picnicking ?" "Yes." "How charming!" he said; "as though one couldn't see enough country out of one's windows every minute in the year.

But you can't tell where sentiment will crop up; some people don't object to chasing ants off the dishes and fishing sticks out of the milk.