noon
This valley was in its most languid mood . Bluegrass stood ripe in the pastures , each stem tilting wearily beneath a burden of seed . Wheat was in the shock , and its sheaves leaned against each other as though fatigued with having brought so large a yield ; while the golden fields of stubble lent a softer tone to the sturdy corn , or the less mature hemp and tobacco . It was a season when at morning the harvester 's call , or at noon the wood-dove 's melancholy note , or at evening the low of Jersey herds , were irresistible invitations to poetic drowsiness . Brent slowly turned and looked at her . Up to this time he had been speaking only of indifferent things . `` I think it is all I can do to keep from making love to you ! ''