"No! in Sar? It means winter, I'm afraid."
"Winter!" she exclaimed, her resentment embarrassed by the man's imperturbable temper, and her interest provoked by his voice. "I'm going down with Sir Colvin."
"Yes!" he said. "And when will that be?"
"When he's done here."
"Yes!" he said again, "but that hardly puts a date to it. I can give you one for the snow."
"Look here!" she cried—and the little imperious words, with their little imperious manner, made suddenly a bond of battle between them—"you haven't been here a day, and you've set every one foaming. Do you know that?"
"Yes," he said humbly. "I'm afraid I've put my foot into it all round."
"Well!" she exclaimed. "Do you want me against you too?"
He shook his head gravely.
"Heaven forbid!" he said. "But you're against me already."