'I wish I had Mrs. Veale's heart under that there stone,' said Charles, viciously. 'I'd grind my heel into it till I'd worked through it. You don't know how uncomfortable she makes me.'
'Well, keep her at arm's length.'
'I can't do it. She won't let me. She runs after me as a cat after a milk-maid.'
'Surely, Charles, you can just put a stop to that.'
'I suppose I must.'
He continued, in spite of remonstrance, grinding through the broken slate into the earth. His face was hot and red. He put his elbow up, and wiped his brow on his sleeve.
'It is cursed warm here,' he said at last.
'Then keep away from the fire. I'm glad you have come to see me, Charles; I always wish you well.'
'Oh, for the matter of that I only came here to be out of the way of Mrs. Veale.'
Then Honor laughed. 'Really, Charles, this is childish.'