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It detracted somewhat from Prudence's enjoyment when, having lunched delightfully off viands which would have met with less favour eaten off a plate from an ordinary dining-table, having subsequently strolled about the woods, engaged in botanical and other research, it abruptly occurred to her that it was time to return home. The thought of going home was less pleasant with the prospect so imminent. Picnicking in the woods with a comparative stranger was, she felt now, a sufficiently unusual proceeding to make explanation difficult. Neither Agatha nor her father would view the matter in the light in which she saw it -- simply as a pleasant excursion breaking the monotony of dull days. The necessity to account for her absence at all annoyed her.
"The drawback to stolen pleasure," she announced, regarding the young man with serious eyes in which a shade of anxiety was faintly reflected, "lies in the aftermath of nettles; while not dangerous, they sting."