Meanwhile Lucy had found Joel. The sun had set, and the rooks were flying home above Cringel Forest.
"Come with me up the dale," she said softly.
He was not disposed to be friendly.
"Cheer up, lad," she continued. "Let's be kind again."
With a face still lowering, and his whole frame the very embodiment of injured pride, he turned and walked beside her.
He was jealous of Peter, yet sensible that he was to blame, not she.
"You'd better marry Peter," he said at last, breaking the silence.
"Who talks of marrying?" replied Lucy, coolly.
"He's got money and brains. He'd make you a worthier husband than I."
He kicked the stones out of his path and switched the heads off the primroses that were growing by the wayside. The truth was, which Lucy did not know, that he had been betting and had lost. When they came to the edge of the forest, and the open dale lay before them, all gloomy with shadows, Lucy turned.