“I wondered if you were as grand as you thought you were!” she lied. “It didn’t need as much as a tear to damp all the sparks out of your axe when it ran against a woman’s grindstone! You ought to have known that I should never think the moor drab. Look at it, man!”
He raised his eyes, following the direction of her arm as it swept a half circle over the landscape. The light was yellow, for it was towards sunset, and the moor stretched its great length before them like burnished metal—brass and copper. The greens were washed over with gold: there was gold in the russets, gold on the pale straws, and the trailing roads were no longer white but faintly yellow. On the western horizon there was a slight haze, delicately pink; and clouds of a deeper hue slashed the blue of the sky.
“Drab!” Nancy laughed mock-mirthfully. “It’s as good as a rainbow, Jagger! I’m like you: when trouble comes I make a game of it: I won’t be beaten! Maybe, somewhere on ahead, life’ll be pink, like that. We’ve got to jog on when it’s stormy and keep smiling!”
“You’re a wonder, Nancy!” said Jagger; and the cloud that still lingered over his eyes had itself caught the sunset tints.
“I’m a fool!” she replied. “I’m wasting time and running risks instead of saying my say and getting on with my business. Let’s leave all this nonsense and get back to where we started. I’m going to watch James instead of you. Let Stalker think you’ve given it up. Make out that you’re tired of watching and finding nothing, and then when I’ve aught to tell you they’ll be off their guard. You aren’t deep enough for James.”
“Happen not,” he assented grudgingly; “but t’ pace is too hot to last. He’ll trip before long, you’ll see. I don’t like t’ thought of you being mixed up with it, Nancy. If he was to pick it out he’d raise hell, and if he was to touch you—”
“If he was to touch me,” she said proudly, “he’d know about it, but I doubt if he will. He’s all for himself, Jagger, and his skin’s dear to him. He’d like to, well enough, I daresay; but he dursn’t. Don’t you worry about me. I was born on the moor.”
She saw the danger light return to his eyes and at that signal changed her tone.
“Get you gone!” she said quietly; “we’ve stood three times too long already. I’ll find ways and means of letting you know if there’s aught to tell.”
She moved away as she spoke, without a word of farewell, and never once turned her head, so that she did not see how he stood, shading his eyes with his hand, watching her figure grow smaller and less distinct as the distance between them increased.