Paul was over in a second.
"Come," he said, "let me help you." "No, go away.

I will do it in my own way." He stood below with his hands up ready to help her.

She climbed cautiously.
"What a way to climb!" he exclaimed scornfully, when she was safely to earth again.
"Hateful stiles!" she cried.
"Duffer of a little woman," he replied, "who can't get over 'em." In front, along the edge of the wood, was a cluster of low red farm buildings.

The two hastened forward.

Flush with the wood was the apple orchard, where blossom was falling on the grindstone.