They had finished the run down Reyburn hill. Their pace was slackening on the level.
He said, "That's a jolly bicycle of yours."
"Isn't it? I'm sure you'll like to know I bought it with the wonderful cheque you gave me. I should never have had it without that."
"I'm glad you got something out of that awful time."
"Awful? It was one of the nicest times I've ever had…. Nearly all my nice times have been in that house."
"I know," he said. "My uncle would let you do anything you liked if you were young enough. He ought to have had children of his own. They'd have kept him out of mischief."
"I can't think," she said to the surrounding hills, "why people get into mischief, or why they go and kill themselves. When they can ride bicycles instead."
III.
Mamma was sitting upright and averted, with an air of self-conscious effacement, holding the thin white book before her like a fan.
Every now and then you could see her face swinging round from behind the cover and her eyes looking at Richard Nicholson, above the rims of her glasses. Uneasy, frightened eyes.