"Oh, I say, Deleah! Come! You can't mean it."
"I mean every word."
"But can't I sometimes meet you by accident even?"
"If you do I shall cut you."
"And if I won't be cut?"
"I shall call a policeman."
She laughed, but she made him see that she was in earnest. He walked by her side, crestfallen, a grieving look on his good-humoured, pleasant face. The hunting season was not here for several months. His head and his heart had been filled of late with Deleah, his time had been passed in riding down Bridge Street in the hope that she might be looking out of window, in waylaying her when she came from school, in sitting in the room over the shop with Bessie, to get rid of time till Deleah should appear.
"If I'm to give up seeing you, and trying to see you, what on earth am I to do?" he asked.
"You are to travel."
"Why that is what Francis has been sticking into me!