“Yes, yes; I will,” he said abruptly, and thrusting the glove back to her he turned to leave. Facing round, however, he said, “Tess, as God is my judge, I meant no humbug in taking your hand!”
A pattering of hoofs on the soil of the field, which they had not noticed in their preoccupation, ceased close behind them; and a voice reached her ear:
“What the devil are you doing away from your work at this time o’ day?”
Farmer Groby had espied the two figures from the distance, and had inquisitively ridden across, to learn what was their business in his field.
“Don’t speak like that to her!” said d’Urberville, his face blackening with something that was not Christianity.
“Indeed, Mister! And what mid Methodist pa’sons have to do with she?”
“Who is the fellow?” asked d’Urberville, turning to Tess.
She went close up to him.
“Go—I do beg you!” she said.
“What! And leave you to that tyrant? I can see in his face what a churl he is.”