"No, no," she moaned. She hated that action like an obscenity. Surely she was tainted, too.
Jim licked her covering hands, and whined when she paid no heed.
"Hateful! hateful!" were the words he heard and tried to understand. He sat, alert and troubled, while clouds rolled across the sky, and dark reflections of them made stately progress on the moor. Sheep, absorbed in feeding, drew near, looked up and darted off with foolish, warning bleats, but still his mistress kept her face hidden, and did not move until he barked loudly at the sight of Halkett riding towards them.
"I couldn't keep away," the man said, bending from his saddle.
She rose and leaned against his knee. "George, what do I look like?"
His fervent answer was not the one she wanted.
"But do I look the same?"
He held her by the chin. "Have you been crying?"
"No."
"What is it then?"