“You will come on to the mill, Zyp?”
“Not now; it is useless. I hear my baby calling, Renny.”
“But—what will you do?”
“Walk back to Southampton.”
“To-night?”
“Part of the way, at least. When I get tired I shall sleep.”
“Sleep? Where?”
“Under some tree or bush. Where could I better?”
“Zyp! You mustn’t. Anything might happen to you.”
Her face took a flash of scorn.