"From a man's point of view. No more ridiculous than a man from a woman's point of view. The absurdity disappears when they love each other. Then male extravagance and feminine subtlety are only incidentals----" "Wise young woman." "I'm a fraud really, René. It's pure Lotta. She was trained as a doctor, you know, and really has watched people. I only guess." "That's my trouble, too. I only feel quite sure when I reach a certain stage of emotion." "I never feel quite sure. Nor does Lotta. How can anyone? She says she has observed certain things. She says men and women only make love to each other as a rule because they love each other so little that they have nothing else in common." "And you and I----?" "Have everything." René laughed. "Except the power to jump stiles." "Oh! I love to see you do it." "And I love to see your inability." "We both get over it. That is all that matters." "That's a hard, common-sensible woman." They reached a place where the trees--beech, pine, and larch--came marching up a steep hill, so steep that they could see over the tops of the trees out to the plain beneath. The mists wreathed and broke. A pale blue sky shone through them, and the sun cast pale yellow lights. Cathleen began to sing as they plunged down the hill. René started to run, could not stop himself, and went tearing down, shouting like mad until he was brought up by a wide ditch. There he turned and watched Cathleen threading her way through the trees, singing. The wind came roaring, whispering and muttering through the leaves, and the trees swayed and moaned. Cathleen came running the last few yards, and he caught her. She held up her laughing face and they kissed, and the wind seemed to sweep through them and set them swaying like the trees. Their blood raced in their glee. On the way back they gathered blackberries, and in a green clearing in the woods they found mushrooms. Happy they were to take such treasure back to Lotta, their friend, who had made such wonders possible for them. She had supper ready for them, the lamp and the fire lit, the curtains drawn in the cozy kitchen. After they had eaten, they sat with cigarettes and coffee and peppermints round the fire. Lotta said: "I knew you would find what you wanted here. I think all lovers should bring their love to the earth and let the wind know that it is there. How can you love in streets and houses? They drive the sweetness out of it and keep it unnaturally excited. I have seen so much of that. Women especially are so house-conscious. They hate everything in love which threatens their pride of possession and position. They live so jealously that they want jealousy even in their love----" "Thank you," said René. "For what?" "For being so frank. I never was in a house before where there was no oppression in the atmosphere."