`` I 'm awfully sorry , Lucinda , '' he said , striving with uncertain success to keep a suspicious quiver of laughter out of his tone . `` It was wretchedly clumsy of me , but that pebble turned right under my foot . Please forgive me -- for that -- and for other things . '' Lucinda deigned no answer . She stood on a flat stone and wrung the water from the poor green voile . Romney surveyed her apprehensively . `` Hurry , Lucinda , '' he entreated . `` You will catch your death of cold . '' `` I never take cold , '' answered Lucinda , with chattering teeth . `` And it is my dress I am thinking of -- was thinking of . You have more need to hurry . You are sopping wet yourself and you know you are subject to colds . There -- come . '' Lucinda picked up the stringy train , which had been so brave and buoyant five minutes before , and started up the field at a brisk rate . Romney came up to her and slipped his arm through hers in the old way . For a time they walked along in silence . Then Lucinda began to shake with inward laughter . She laughed silently for the whole length of the field ; and at the line fence between Peter Penhallow 's land and the Grange acres she paused , threw back the fascinator from her face , and looked at Romney defiantly . `` You are thinking of -- THAT , '' she cried , `` and I am thinking of it . And we will go on , thinking of it at intervals for the rest of our lives .
But if you ever mention it XXXXX me I 'll never forgive you , Romney Penhallow ! ''
For Grange at between from of on to voile with