“Really, Mr Gemp!”
“I dropped upon ’em down in a ditch, and when they saw me coming, they pretended that they were finding little snail-shells.”
“Snail-shells?”
“Yes, ma’am, and he pulls out a little magnifying-glass for her to look through. It may be a religious way of courting, but I say it’s disgusting.”
“Really, Mr Gemp!” said Mrs Pinet, bridling.
“Ay, it is, ma’am. I like things open and above board—a young man giving a young woman his arm, and taking her out for a walk reg’lar, and not going out in the lanes, and keeping about a yard apart.”
“But do they, Mr Gemp?”
“Yes, just to make people think there’s nothing going on. But there, ma’am, I must be off. You mustn’t keep me. I can’t stop talking here.”
“Well, really, Mr Gemp!” said his hearer, bridling again, and resenting the idea that she had detained him.
“Yes, I must go indeed. I say, though, seen any more of that chap?”