So Mary and Robin were left outside, quite as if they were nothing to any but themselves.

Mary was aware of all this manoeuvring, and it brought a little frown upon her pretty forehead, as if she were cast before the feet of Robin Lyth; but her gentleness prevailed, because they meant her well.

Under the weeping-ash there was a little seat, and the beauty of it was that it would not hold two people.

She sat down upon it, and became absorbed in the clouds that were busy with the sunset.
These were very beautiful, as they so often are in the broken weather of the autumn; but sailors would rather see fair sky, and Robin's fair heaven was in Mary's eyes.

At these he gazed with a natural desire to learn what the symptoms of the weather were; but it seemed as if little could be made out there, because everything seemed so lofty: perhaps Mary had forgotten his existence.
Could any lad of wax put up with this, least of all a daring mariner?
He resolved to run the cargo of his heart right in, at the risk of all breakers and drawn cutlasses; and to make a good beginning he came up and took her hand.