Lettice fell in beside him without a word. For once in her life, she walked fast. Gardiner was silent too, twirling his stick in his left hand instead of the right. They had reached the hill of the crucifix, and were descending the orchard, before Lettice opened her lips.
"You won't be able to write your letters. How will you manage?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Make shift with my left hand, I suppose."
"You'd better let me do them for you."
"It's nearly eight o'clock. Time for you to have your supper and go to by-by."
"I don't always go to bed at nine," said Lettice.
"Would you really be so good as to do it, for once?"
"Of course."
"Servidor de ustéd, señorita," said Gardiner, "que sus piés besa—your servant, madam, who kisses your feet: I don't know why I want to talk Spanish to you, but I undoubtedly do—I shall be inexpressibly grateful."