"Are you comfortable, Gibson?" I asked.
"Very," he answered. "I never could abide cider, and the beer is shocking, Ma'am. But I'm quite comfortable."
"I'm glad, Gibson," I said. "I won't lose the address. Good-morning."
I record it to my shame that I was heartless enough to begin moving away. Indeed, I had advanced twenty or thirty paces up the beck before Gibson decided on a second pursuit.
"About Susan, Ma'am!" he said, with red cheeks. "Shall you tell Susan, Ma'am, that I'm in these parts?"
"That reminds me, Gibson," I retorted, "you've forgotten so much of the bargain we made at Traxelby that I can't be certain of anything. You promised not to tell Susan that I had ever let you discuss her with me."
"I sha'n't forget, Ma'am. But ... can't I see Susan for a minute?"
"How? Where?"
"I might hang about, Ma'am."
"And frighten her out of her life. No thank you, Gibson! If there's to be any meeting, you'd better write about it from Grandpont."