"So I do not," he agrees, and then lets loose a sigh. He scuffs at the ground under his feet, kicking up a bit of grass, like a restive horse. "So perhaps that is the way of it. We can be silent, and stay silent, and simply gaze at the - " He hesitates, then shrugs. "Whatever-sort-of-tree-this-is blossoms."

He lets loose a sigh, and falls silent. He still doesn't look up at her. He's not looking at the magnolia, either. Instead, he's gazing across the lawn.