"Down there is the Signora!" said Marinina, pointing like one of the Fates.
And again he said "Thank you! Thank you!" without a twinkle, and stepped carefully into the track. Marinina lifted her chin with a joyful wickedness. Then she strode off towards the house.
Maurice was watching his step, through the tangle of Mediterranean herbage, so he did not catch sight of his wife till he came round a little bend, quite near her. She was standing erect and nude by the jutting rock, glistening with the sun and with warm life. Her breasts seemed to be lifting up, alert, to listen, her thighs looked brown and fleet. Her glance on him, as he came like ink on blotting-paper, was swift and nervous.
Maurice, poor fellow, hesitated, and glanced away from her. He turned his face aside.
"Hello, Julie!" he said, with a little nervous cough—"Splendid! Splendid!"
He advanced with his face averted, shooting further glances at her, as she stood with the peculiar satiny gleam of the sun on her tanned skin. Somehow she did not seem so terribly naked. It was the golden-rose tan of the sun that clothed her.
"Hello, Maurice!" she said, hanging back from him. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."
"No," he said, "No! I managed to slip away a little earlier."
And again he coughed awkwardly.
They stood several yards away from one another, and there was silence.