She understood.
"And you know I'm not a young man, honey. And I'm not very clever about these new rules and regulations. And when I have to think about overtime and union secretaries and all that, it strikes me that farming isn't what it used to be."
Of course. Sarah's very words. It was just what she had imagined. Where John didn't echo her, he echoed Sarah. Well, this time he'd have to echo her.
"Of course it isn't what it used to be," she said brusquely, flicking the pony with her whip. "Nothing ever is. We've got to move with the times. It's only when things are changing that it's difficult. In a year or two you'll forget there ever has been a union."
John shook his head. "I don't know. I feel sometimes it's hard to start all over again, just when I was getting used to things as they were."
"That's because you haven't been very well lately. You will, though. You'll get used to it. One can get used to anything."
Again she felt as though there were enemies trying to snatch her kingdom from her, and that she must hold on with both hands in blind tenacity, no matter what it cost her or anyone else.
"Of course I can't hold you here against your will," she said. "I'm not going to deny that you came here on my account. Only I do think it would be silly to make a move now, when the mortgage is just paid."
He did not answer. The wind caught them as they turned westward along the road to Anderby. It whipped short strands of hair across Mary's face. John clutched at his hat and bent his head to the gale.
"Mind you," continued Mary, "I dare say that Sarah is right when she says that any more upset wouldn't be good for you. But now that everything is quiet again, I see no reason why we should worry."