"Do you think she'll be back for dinner?" asked Tarboe, smothering his anger, but get to get his own way.
"I think she'll be back for dinner!" and he drove the spade into the ground.
"Then I'll sit down and wait." Tarboe made for the verandah.
Denzil presently trotted after and said: "I'd like a word with you."
Tarboe turned round. "Well, what have you got to say?"
"Better be said in my house, not here," replied Denzil. His face was pale, but there was fire in his eyes. There was no danger of violence, and, if there were, Tarboe could deal with it. Why should there be violence? Why should that semi-insanity in Denzil's eyes disturb him? The one thing to do was to forge ahead. He nodded.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked presently, as they passed through the gate.
"To my little house by the Three Trees. I've got things I'd like to show you, and there's some things I'd like to say. You are a big hulk of a man, and I'm nobody, but yet I've been close to you and yours in my time —that's so, for sure."
"You've been close to me and mine in your time, eh? I didn't know that."
"No, you didn't know it. Nobody knew it—I've kept it to myself. Your family wasn't all first-class—but no."