"Shall we go back for him?"—and he pulled up.
She made no direct answer, but continued to walk, saying they would go as far as the stile. "Of course I know you're fearfully vague," she presently resumed.
"I wasn't vague at all. But you were in such a hurry to get away."
"It doesn't signify. I've another at home."
"Another summer-house?" he more lightly suggested.
"A copy of Mr. Hoppus."
"Mercy, how you go in for him! Fancy having two!"
"He sent me the number of the magazine, and the other's the one that comes every month."
"Every month; I see"—but his manner justified considerably her charge of vagueness. They had reached the stile and he leaned over it, looking at a great mild meadow and at the browsing beasts in the distance.
"Did you suppose they come every day?" Julia went on.