"Here, what are you driving at, Mr. Coast?"
"I—I'm driving at nothing. I don't know what you mean. Well, I must be moving. Oh, by the way, do you know that there's a talk that the Robsons may leave Anderby if anything else happens to upset Mr. Robson? He's been a bit of an invalid since his stroke."
"I hadn't heard."
"Some people wouldn't think it was a bad thing."
"Ay."
"Well, good evening."
Coast strolled on past the garden of the Wold Farm, and the Flying Fox, till he came to the Armstrongs' gate.
Then he paused. The light was fading and, beyond the stubble fields, the sky glowed red and stormy. A gust of wind brought the frail leaves which clung to the branches of a chestnut-tree whirling round him. Down in the valley, Anderby village grew dim and grey.