...

Please smoke if you care to." He did care to; several matches were extinguished by the wind until she spread her skids as a barrier; and kneeling in their shelter he got his light.
"Tobacco smoke diluted with sea breeze is delicious," she said, as the wind whirled the aromatic smoke of his cigarette up into her face.
"Don't move, Mr.Siward; I like it; there is to me always a faint odour of sweet-brier in the melange.

Did you ever notice it ?" The breeze-blown conversation became fragmentary, veering as capriciously as the purple wind-flaws that spread across the shoals.

But always to her question or comment she found in his response the charm of freshness, of quick intelligence, or of a humourous and idle perversity which stimulates without demanding.
Once, glancing back at the house where the T-cart and horses stood, she said that she had better return; or perhaps she only thought she said it, for he made no response that time.

And a few moments later they reached the headland, and the Atlantic lay below, flowing azure from horizon to horizon--under a universe of depthless blue.