“Shall you be all right?” I asked, seeing him totter.
“Yes—all right—good-bye, lad.”
He walked away feebly into the darkness. We saw the lights of a vehicle on the high-road: after a while we heard the bang of a door, and a cab rattled away.
“Well—whoever’s he?” said George laughing.
“Do you know,” said I, “it’s made me feel a bit rotten.”
“Ay?” he laughed, turning up the end of the exclamation with indulgent surprise.
We went back home, deciding to say nothing to the women. They were sitting in the window seat watching for us, mother and Alice and Lettie.
“You have been a long time!” said Lettie. “We’ve watched the sun go down—it set splendidly—look—the rim of the hill is smouldering yet. What have you been doing?”
“Waiting till your Taurus finished work.”
“Now be quiet,” she said hastily, and—turning to him, “You have come to sing hymns?”