Joe merely grunted for a reply. There was nothing more to be got out of
him. So they went to bed.

Next day Joe was silent, sullen. Albert could make nothing of him. He
proposed a walk after tea.

'I'm going somewhere,' said Joe.

'Where--Monkey nuts?' asked the corporal. But Joe's brow only became
darker.

So the days went by. Almost every evening Joe went off alone, returning
late. He was sullen, taciturn and had a hang-dog look, a curious way of
dropping his head and looking dangerously from under his brows. And he
and Albert did not get on so well any more with one another. For all his
fun and nonsense, Albert was really irritable, soon made angry. And Joe's
stand-offish sulkiness and complete lack of confidence riled him, got on
his nerves. His fun and nonsense took a biting, sarcastic turn, at which
Joe's eyes glittered occasionally, though the young man turned unheeding
aside. Then again Joe would be full of odd, whimsical fun, outshining
Albert himself.

Miss Stokes still came to the station with the wain: Monkey-nuts,
Albert called her, though not to her face. For she was very clear and
good-looking, almost she seemed to gleam. And Albert was a tiny bit
afraid of her. She very rarely addressed Joe whilst the hay-loading was
going on, and that young man always turned his back to her. He seemed
thinner, and his limber figure looked more slouching. But still it had
the tender, attractive appearance, especially from behind. His tanned
face, a little thinned and darkened, took a handsome, slightly sinister