She was wondering what _he_ would think if he knew.

She wondered what the farm would be like without him. Would it be what it
was last autumn and winter and in the spring before he came? But she had
been happy all that time without him, even in the hard, frost-biting
winter. When you had gone through that you knew the worst of Barrow Farm.
It made your face coarse, though.

Joan of Arc was a peasant. No wonder she was beginning to look like her.
If John went--

"John, shall you stay on here?"

"I don't know. I shall stick to farming if that's what you mean. Though
it isn't what I wanted."

"What did you want?"

"To go into the Army."

"Why didn't you then?"

"They wouldn't have me. There's something wrong with my eyes.... So the
land's got me instead."

"Me too. We ought to have been doing this all our lives."

"We'll jolly well have to. We shall never be any good indoors again."