‘The basket is empty, and I have to go back to the washhouse.’
‘I will go with you.’
‘But there is nothing to do except wring out the clothes.’
‘Let me help you with that.’
‘Pretty work it would be for you!’ This with a nervous little laugh, which she evidently intended to convey an impression of good-natured ridicule.
‘It doesn’t matter what it is, so being it is for you.’
She stooped quickly, seizing one handle of the basket; he took the other, and they lifted it between them. He looked straight in her face now, and he fancied that the colour faded from her cheeks.
‘Father is in the vine-house,’ she repeated, looking in another direction.
‘I want to tell you something, Pansy.’ He was a little husky, and unconsciously moved the basket to and fro.
She knew what he wanted to tell her, and she did not want to hear—at least not then.