As it is, I take 'No,' for an answer and rest content." Doris was silent.

Her slim, white-clad figure was bent to the task of bringing the punt to a pleasant anchorage in an inviting hollow in the grassy shore.

Hugh Chesyl clasped his hands behind his head and watched her with placid admiration.
The small brown hands were very capable.

They knew exactly what to do, and did it with precision.

When they had finally secured the punt, with him in it, to the bank he sat up.
"Are we going to have tea here?
What a charming spot! Sweetly romantic, isn't it?
I wonder why you particularly want to be a farmer's wife ?" Doris's pointed chin still looked slightly scornful.