“Oh, tell me, do tell me. I want to know!”
“You wouldn’t be a woman if you didn’t. But I’m not going to tell you.”
And Dick drew himself up and looked out of the window, with the obstinate look she had seen before on his face. Freda was far too unconscious of her own feminine powers to attempt to move his resolution. She only sighed as he held out his hand.
“Are you very lonely at the farm?” she asked.
“Very. At least I mean rather.”
“You have nobody there at all to speak to?”
“Nobody at all.”
“And you will go on living like that?”
“As long as I can hold out. The love of the old place, and of all this country round, is a passion with me—the only one I’ve ever had, in fact. And you,” he continued, leaving the subject of his own prospects with some abruptness, “you are lonely too. May I come and see you again?”
Freda hesitated.