"People don't as a rule sleep out—about here." The words came jerkily, as if she were forcing a natural tone into her voice.
"No?" He was accustomed to being questioned on his unconventional mode of life, and was prepared for the usual expostulations. She looked abruptly towards him.
"Are you superstitious?"
He laughed and shook his head.
"I don't think so. But what has that got to do with it?"
She hesitated, flushing a little.
"There is a legend—people about here say that the moor here is haunted. There is a Thing that hunts people to death!"
He laughed outright, wondering how old she was. Seventeen or eighteen, perhaps. She had said her people "didn't fuss." That meant she was left to herself to pick up all these old wives' tales.
"Really! Has anyone been caught?"
She nodded, unsmiling.