“‘Now that April’s there?’”
said Mr. Guildford.
“Yes,” said Cicely.
“Even
‘though the fields look rough with hoary dew?’”
“Yes, I am dreadfully English. I shall never be anything else.”
“I don’t think I care particularly where I am,” said Mr. Guildford, “if I have plenty to do.”
“And you always will have that,” said Cicely.
“I don’t know,” replied he. They had walked on a little in front of the others; there was no one to overhear what was said. “There will always be plenty for me to do, certainly, but whether I shall be able to do it is a different matter.”
His tone was desponding.