"No. I want to go through the garden. There are primroses there. Big ones, like stars."
"It's you that are a star."
"I think they liked the snow. And the poplars are all buds. I wish I could sit in the tree-tops and look right across the moor."
"And wait for me. And when I came I'd hold my arms out and you'd jump into them."
"If I didn't fly away."
"Ay, I expect you would do that."
They did not speak again until they reached the house, and when she had lighted the kitchen lamp she saw him looking moodily into the fire.
"Is Mrs. Biggs better?" she asked smoothly.
"What do you know about her?"
"I heard she was ill."