Then, holding her very carefully, he stepped down from the bank into the stream and began to make his way across.
Nan had no fear that he might let her fall.

The arms that held her felt pliant and strong as steel, and their clasp about her filled her with a strange, new ecstasy that thrilled her from head to foot.

It frightened her.
"Am I awfully heavy ?" she asked, nervously anxious to introduce some element of commonplace.
And Peter, looking down at the delicately angled face which lay against his shoulder, drew his breath hard.
"No," he answered briefly.

"You're not heavy." There was that in his gaze which brought the warm colour into her face.
Her lids fell swiftly, veiling her eyes, and she turned her face quickly towards his shoulder.

All that remained visible was the edge of the little turban hat she wore and, below this, a dusky sweep of hair against her white skin.
He went on in silence, conscious in every fibre of his being of the supple body gathered so close against his own, of the young, sweet, clean-cut curve of her cheek, and of the warmth of her hair against his shoulder.