“Postman,” he said.
“Very early!” she replied.
“Rural round; he’s mostly here by seven, when he does come.”
“Did your mate send you a fortune?”
“No! Only some photographs and papers about a place out there in British Columbia.”
“Would you go there?”
“I thought perhaps we might.”
“Oh, yes! I believe it’s lovely!”
But he was put out by the postman’s coming.
“Them damned bikes, they’re on you afore you know where you are. I hope he twigged nothing.”
“After all, what could he twig!”
“You must get up now, and get ready. I’m just goin’ ter look round outside.”
She saw him go reconnoitring into the lane, with the dog and gun. She went downstairs and washed, and was ready by the time he came back, with the few things in the little silk bag.
He locked up, and they set off, but through the wood, not down the lane. He was being wary.
“Don’t you think one lives for times like last night?” she said to him.
“Ay! But there’s the rest o’ times to think on,” he replied, rather short.