"How has he been getting on?"
"How do you expect? He looks upon work as something that only damned fools do. Where's Frank?"
"Oh, he's out with Sid Sharp. Sid's our neighbor. He has the farm you passed on your way here."
"Getting on all right with him, Nora?"
"Why, of course," said Nora with just a suggestion of irritation in her voice.
"What's that boy doing all this time?" she asked, going over to the window and looking out. "He is slow, isn't he?"
But Marsh was not a man whom it was easy to side-track.
"It's a great change for you, this, after the sort of life you've been used to."
"I was rather hoping you'd have some letters for me," said Nora from the window. "I haven't had a letter for a long time."
As a matter of fact she had no reason to expect any, not having answered Miss Pringle's last and having practically no other correspondent. But the speech was a happy one, in that it created the desired diversion.