"I'm quite well, the same as ever—and how are you?"
"Oh, I'd be all right, only that I'm alone in the house, which bothers me on account of the grounds."
Then they remained chatting for a long time, leaning against the wheel of the heavy cart. The man every now and then lifted up his cap to scratch his forehead, and began thinking, while she, with flushed cheeks, went on talking warmly, told him about her views, her plans, her projects for the future. In the end, he said, in a low tone:
"Yes, it can be done."
She opened her hand like a countryman clinching a bargain, and asked:
"Is it agreed?"
He pressed her outstretched hand.
"'Tis agreed."
"'Tis fixed, then, for Sunday next?"
"'Tis fixed for Sunday next."