"But," she said, "it seems so horrible. It would slash.... There would be"—her voice sank,—"blood."
"In the old romances you have read often enough ..."
"Oh, I know: in those—yes. But that is different. One knows it is not blood, but just a sort of red ink.... And you—killing!"
She looked at him doubtfully, and then handed him back the sword.
After they had rested and eaten, they rose up and went on their way towards the hills. They passed quite close to a huge flock of sheep, who stared and bleated at their unaccustomed figures. She had never seen sheep before, and she shivered to think such gentle things must needs be slain for food. A sheep-dog barked from a distance, and then a shepherd appeared amidst the supports of the wind-wheels, and came down towards them.
When he drew near he called out asking whither they were going.
Denton hesitated, and told him briefly that they sought some ruined house among the Downs, in which they might live together. He tried to speak in an off-hand manner, as though it was a usual thing to do. The man stared incredulously.
"Have you done anything?" he asked.
"Nothing," said Denton. "Only we don't want to live in a city any longer. Why should we live in cities?"
The shepherd stared more incredulously than ever. "You can't live here," he said.