She went about in a quiet matter-of-fact way which was even gentler than her customary gentleness because in these days, while trying to preserve a quite ordinary demeanour, she felt as though she must move as one would move in making sure that one would not startle a bird one loved.
Robin sat and looked at the pictures.

When she turned a page and looked at it she turned it again and looked at it with dwelling eyes.

Presently she ceased turning pages and sat still with the book open on her lap as if she were thinking not only of what she held but of something else.
When her eyes lifted to meet Dowie's there was a troubled wondering look in them.
"It's so strange--I never seemed to think of it before," the words came slowly.

"I forgot because I was always--remembering." "You'll think now," Dowie answered.

"It's only Nature." "Yes--it's only Nature." The touch of her hand on the pamphlet was a sort of caress--it was a touch which clung.
"Dowie," timidly.