'It's only me, Rosa. I didna' think t' scare ye. I've bin waitin' for
ye, this hoor past.'

She made no reply, but quickened her pace. He strode on beside her.

'I'm off, Monday, ye know,' he continued. And, as she said nothing,
'Will ye na stop jest a minnit? I'd like t' speak a few words wi' ye
before I go, an tomorrow I hev t' git over t' Scarsdale betimes,' he
persisted.

'I don't want t' speak wi' ye: I don't want ever to see ye agin. I jest
hate the sight o' ye.' She spoke with a vehement, concentrated
hoarseness.

'Nay, but ye must listen to me. I will na be put off wi' fratchin
speeches.'

And gripping her arm, he forced her to stop.

'Loose me, ye great beast,' she broke out.

'I'll na hould ye, if ye'll jest stand quiet-like. I meant t' speak fair
t' ye, Rosa.'

They stood at a bend in the road, face to face quite close together.
Behind his burly form stretched the dimness of a grey, ghostly field.

'What is't ye hev to say to me? Hev done wi' it quick,' she said
sullenly.