"Plea Gob," he answered, "till next time. We'd have been in the cart but the Bank of England stood by like a brick."
Their steady pace took them along. They were getting away from the hills, and the Weald was opening before them. The sun shone on them, and the willows on either side the road declared that April was at hand. They eased down to a walk.
Silver opened his chest.
"I feel like singing!" he cried.
"Sing then," said Boy.
In his quiet booming voice he sang a verse from Two on the Downs, which in their long hacks home of evening she had taught him—
Sing ho!
So we go,
Over Downs that are surging green
Under the sky and the seas that lie
Silvery-strewn between.
He finished and turned to her with a laugh and shining eyes.
She glanced away, and on her face was that delicious wary look he loved so well, baffling and baffled, disturbing because disturbed, as when a little wind ruffles at evening a willow, exposing to the sky in spite of protest the silvery undersides of naked, shining leaves.
Jim Silver edged across to her.