He drew out his watch, and without looking at it held it toward her. "You need not tell; I do not want to know," he said.
"In spite of that, I feel it to be my duty to announce that it is nearly half past twelve; you may still reach home in time for lunch."
"Thanks. I know what I shall have for lunch."
"What?"
"One small biscuit, three slices of cake, one long corpulent pickle, and an apple."
"You have left nothing for me," said Anne, laughing over this disclosure of the contents of her basket.
"On the contrary, I have brought you something," said Heathcote, gravely producing two potatoes uncooked, a pinch of salt in paper, and a quarter of a loaf of bread, from the pockets of his blue flannel coat.
Anne burst into a peal of laughter, and the last shadow of timidity vanished. Heathcote seemed for the moment as young as Rast himself.
"Where have you been foraging?" she said.
"Foraging? I beg your pardon; nothing of the kind. I bought these supplies regularly from a farmer's wife, and paid for them in the coin of the land. I remarked to her that I should be out all day, and hated hunger; it was so sanguinary."