Morelli looked at her. “There were gods once,” he said. “People were faithful in those days, and they saw clearly. Now the world is gloomy, because of the sin that it thinks that it has committed, or because pleasure has been acid to the taste. Then they came with their songs and flowers to the hill, and, with the sky at their head and the sea at their feet, they praised the God whom they knew. Now——” He stared fiercely in front of him. “Oh! these people!” he said. She did not ask him any more. She could not understand what he had said, and she was afraid lest her questions should bring his fury back again. But the question was there; many new questions were there, and she was to spend her life in answering them. So they had lunch whilst the two clouds divided into three and danced with white trailing garments across the sun; then again they were swans, and vanished with their necks proudly curved into space. “Father,” said Janet, with an abstracted air, as though she was thinking of some one else, “Do you think Mr. Gale handsome?” “Yes, dear,” he answered. “He’s young, very young, and that is worth all the looks in the world.” “I think he is very handsome,” she said, staring in front of him. “Yes, dear, I know you do.” “You like him, father?” “Of course.” Morelli smiled. “I like to see you together.” “And Mr. Maradick, father? What do you think of him?” “Poor Mr. Maradick!” Morelli laughed. “He is going to have a bad time; life comes late to some people.” “Yes, I like him,” said Janet, thoughtfully, “I know he’s kind, but he’s old; he’s older than you are, father.” “He’ll be younger before he’s left Treliss,” said Morelli. After lunch he took his flute from his pocket. She lay motionless, with her arms behind her head; she became part of the landscape; her white dress lay about her like a cloud, her hair spread like sunlight over the grass, and her eyes stared, shining, into the sky. He sat, with his legs crossed under him, on the swelling grass, and stared at the tops of the trees and the sweep of the sea. No part of him moved except his fingers, which twinkled on the flute; the tune was a little gay dance that sparkled in the air and seemed to set all the trees in motion, even the three little clouds came back again and lay like monstrous white birds against the sky. The two figures were absorbed into the surrounding country. His brown face and sharp nose seemed to belong to the ground on which he sat; the roses on her dress seemed to grow about her, and her hair lay around her like daffodils and primroses. The gay tune danced along, and the sun rose high above their heads; a mist rose from the sea like a veil and, shot with colour, blue and green, enveloped the woods.