My father hates the chapels and all belonging to them." "Perhaps you and I will begin to hate each other soon," said Valmai, as they reached the boulders through which the Berwen trickled.
It was absolutely necessary that Cardo should help her over the slippery stones, and with her hand in his she stepped carefully over the broad stream, subsiding into quietness as it reached the sea.

At last she was safely over, and as he reluctantly dropped her hand he returned to the subject of conversation.
"Will we hate each other ?" Again there was no answer, and again Cardo looked down at Valmai as he pressed his question.
She had taken off her hat, and was walking with her golden head exposed to the cool night breezes.

It drooped a little as she answered his persistent questioning.
"No, I think," she said, with her quaint Welsh accent.
"No, I think, too," said Cardo; "why should we?
Let us leave the hatred and malice and all uncharitableness to our elders; for you and me, down here on the sands and by the banks of the Berwen, there need be nothing but content and--and friendship." "Yes, indeed, it is nice to have friends.

I left all mine behind me in my old home, and I did not think I should ever have another; but here we are across the shore, and here is the path to Dinas." "Oh, but the walk has been too short.

You must come back and let us have it over again." "What! back again ?" said Valmai, laughing so merrily that she woke the echoes from the cliffs.
"Yes, back across those slippery stones and across the shore, and then back again to this side.