s the matter with you this morning? We're wasting time."

"Let's waste time," he said. He looked round at the mists floating off
the moor. The light was clearing; the cows had dwindled; the road was no
longer a fairy flood but a highway for the feet of men.

"I want you to pretend it's yesterday," he said.

"What's the matter with you, John?"

"I'm going to tell you. Will you pretend it's yesterday?"

"Yes. It's Saturday morning, a busy day for us. We ought to get to
work."

"Come a step nearer," he said, and she obeyed.

He clutched the hair on the cow's back and spoke in a harsh voice. "Will
you marry me?" he said, frowning and looking her in the eyes. "I've
hardly any money, but I love you. I want you. I didn't know what to do.
If I'd waited till I had as much as you, I might have lost you. I didn't
know what to do, but I thought I'd tell you."

"You needn't explain any more," she said. Her hands, too, fell on the
cow's back, and with a little movement she bade him take them. He
gathered her fingers into his and turned and twisted them.

"I thought--if you wanted me--why should we live on opposite sides of
the way? I can help you--and I love you." He relied on that.

"I love you," he said again.

He heard her ask softly, "Why?"

"Because--because--oh, you're all I want. You're like the earth, like
herbs, like fresh green grass. I've got your hands: give me the rest of
you!"

Her eyes flashed open, he saw and heard her laugh, and their lips met
across the bulky barrier.

"But I want you in my arms," he said, and in the clearing light he held
her there, though the sound of an opening window told them that the farm
was waking.

CHAPTER XIV

On the night of Mildred Caniper's return, Helen felt that the house had
changed. A new emotion was mingling with the rest, and it was as
unmistakable as a scent, and like a scent, it would grow fainter, but
now it hung in every room and on the stairs. Surely Mr. Pinderwell must
be disturbed by it. She fancied his grey old face puckered in
bewilderment and his steps going faster up and down the stairs. Helen,
too, was restless, and having slept uneasily, she woke in the dark of
the night.

Outside her widely-opened windows the poplars were moving gently. They
seemed near enough to touch, but she found something formidable in their
aspect. Black, tall and bare, they watched her to the accompaniment of
their indifferent whispering and swaying, and they warn