"Nowhere in particular. I was out for a stroll."
"Will you come along with me? I seldom get anyone to talk to. I have some business in the township."
"Splendid!" cried Selwyn.
Up the road they went at steady pace, Selwyn carrying his fifty years on springy steps, Mr. Horrington planting his feet ponderously in the dust. Mr. Horrington pulled out his pipe in a little while, and found to his chagrin his tobacco-pouch was empty.
"Damn it! I find I have run out of fuel until I can manage to get back to the store," he said, blinking his pale blue eyes. "Would you mind lending me a fill? Thanks. Ah, this is something like tobacco. The stuff they sell here comes hard on an educated palate."
"Fill your pouch up. I have plenty at home."
"Thanks very much. I am always meaning to send for some decent stuff. Yes, thanks very much. I shall look forward to a luxurious evening. Here you are. I am afraid I have rather taken you at your word."
"Not at all," answered Selwyn with downcast countenance.
Just before the firewood stacks, they took the branch road turning to the township. The nearing hotel roof glared in the sun. Selwyn, foreseeing the inevitable, put a cautious hand into his pocket for what discovery might discover. The nimble half-crown rewarded his search. Several malignant goats cropped the pasturage at the cross-roads. Mr. Horrington eyed them sullenly.