Again she gave him battle with her eyes; and again marked the look upon his face and relented.
"Last week he wrote. Asked me to meet him in the willow-clump by the Lock at sun-down. I thought best goo and have it out with him. It's been goin on over a year now."
"Wasn't you afraid?" asked Ernie in awe and admiration.
"Afraid of him?" she scoffed, and stripped her arm that was smooth as marble, thick as a cable, and sinuous as a snake. "I can load against the men in the hay. You ask Mus Gander. And I knaw Alf." ...
An envelope was in her hand.
"Here's the latter."
She gave it him.
It was undated, and typewritten, and torn, but on the top there was still left enough of the heading to be decipherable—Caspar's Garage, Saffrons Croft, Beachbourne.
The letter contained an assignation, an indecent suggestion, and a threat; and it was signed Little Cock Robin.
A small fire spluttered in the grate.