"Have you far to go?"
"Oh, not so far as you have; little more than half-way. Ivy Cottage; on the front. Do you know——"
"That pretty little bungalow with the creeper over the porch? Before we reach the big houses?"
"Yes."
He cast an eye over his shoulder at the still distant cloud, gauging the time of its breaking; said:
"When the rain comes it will last, I fear. That will mean confinement to the house."
"I fancy so, too. The local weatherwise are predicting it also. You are not the only prophet. 'Corns are shooting and roomatiz is bad.'"
He laughed at her excellent imitation of the dialect ruling the language of the people; then said:
"May I be personal? How are you off for reading matter?"
"Oh, Mudie's have sent me down an absolutely abominable selection. With"—a twinkle escaped from the corner of her eye—"with the exception of that one of yours."