But even as his shoulder subsided, it swelled up again, like a pressed gutta-percha ball. “It’s all grandfather with you, your husband doesn’t count.”
“Husband, indeed!” She withdrew her hand as if stung. “You’re going quicker than your coach ever went.”
“Oh, very well—I’m off to Australia!”
“As you please. I’ll call for your box!”
“I’ll have no truck with a cart of yours.”
“There’s no other way of getting things to Chipstone,” she reminded him blandly.
“I’ll shoulder it sooner,” he burst forth.
“Ah, then you won’t be going just yet!”
“Damn my arm! I’ll not stay in this wretched country another fortnight! I’ll never look on your face again.”
She began humming: “A dashing young man from Canada——!”