"Send the gig home and stay and talk," she commanded, as he stopped by her on the road; he was returning from Blentmouth to Mingham and found her strolling by the Pool. "I want to speak to you."
He had his bailiff with him—they had been selling a cow—and left him to take the gig home. He shook hands with frank cordiality.
"That's awfully nice of you," he said. "What about?"
"Nothing in particular," said she. "Mayn't I want it just generally?"
"Oh, well, I thought you meant there was something special. I've sold the cow well, Miss Janie."
"Bother the cow! Why haven't you been to Fairholme?"
"Well, in fact, I'm not sure that Mr Iver is death on seeing me there too often. But I shall turn up all right soon."
"Have you been going about anywhere?"
"No. Been up at Mingham most of the time."
"Isn't that rather lonely?"