"You know quite well that you were," he retorted quickly. "But you will always contradict me, and I shall never admit what you say. That's understood."
Evidently he meant that our acquaintance was to go on, whatever I intended.
He crossed his legs and pulled a loose nail out of the side of the crate on which we sat. I hadn't asked him to sit down by me. That, too, he'd taken as a matter of course.
Was this young soldier some relation of Mr. Price? Had he anything to do with this farm? Or did he just appoint himself instructor to any Land Girl he happened to meet?
Hoping to find out what his position was, I asked vaguely, but more politely than I had spoken before:
"Are you stationed here?"
"Here in this cowshed?" Captain Holiday asked blandly.
At this I told him, quite shortly, not to be silly.
Whereupon he laughed.
"Well, then, if you mean for a mile or two round here"—he gave a little circular jerk of his head—"I suppose I am. My house is here. You haven't seen my house yet, but you'd pass it coming from the camp. It's that white place in the trees beyond the hill."