‘They say the stream here is full of them. Good luck to your further fishing, Sir. I must away.’
‘At least let me put you on your Gritty.’
‘In good earnest, no.’ She looked genuinely alarmed.
‘Why not?’
‘Because, if you would know, the hill-top where she grazes is bare, and open to the scrutiny of eyes.’
‘What eyes?’
‘Some in the Chase yonder, perchance.’
‘Holne Chase!’ Brion opened his eyes in wonderment. ‘Do you come from there?’
The girl, hanging her head, gave ever so little a nod with it.
‘Mistress,’ cried Brion, at a wild venture: ‘I think Joan the sweetest name in all the world.’