"What's the matter with you this morning? We're wasting time."
"Let's waste time," he said. He looked round at the mists floating off the moor. The light was clearing; the cows had dwindled; the road was no longer a fairy flood but a highway for the feet of men.
"I want you to pretend it's yesterday," he said.
"What's the matter with you, John?"
"I'm going to tell you. Will you pretend it's yesterday?"
"Yes. It's Saturday morning, a busy day for us. We ought to get to work."
"Come a step nearer," he said, and she obeyed.
He clutched the hair on the cow's back and spoke in a harsh voice. "Will you marry me?" he said, frowning and looking her in the eyes. "I've hardly any money, but I love you. I want you. I didn't know what to do. If I'd waited till I had as much as you, I might have lost you. I didn't know what to do, but I thought I'd tell you."
"You needn't explain any more," she said. Her hands, too, fell on the cow's back, and with a little movement she bade him take them. He gathered her fingers into his and turned and twisted them.
"I thought—if you wanted me—why should we live on opposite sides of the way? I can help you—and I love you." He relied on that.