“He had to see his girl.”
“But why?”
His eyes shot past her again. It was so obvious that the man had to see his girl. For two hours though—not for four hours seven minutes.
“Did you have any lunch?”
“I don’t hold with regular meals.”
“Did you have a book?”
“I don’t hold with books in the open. None of the older men read.”
“Did you commune with yourself, or don’t you hold with that?”
“Oh Lord, don’t ask me!”
“You distress me. You rob the Pastoral of its lingering romance. Is there no poetry and no thought in England? Is there no one, in all these downs, who warbles with eager thought the Doric lay?”