that he glanced up at her quickly, and saw the utterly still, waiting look on her face. To him it was a look of waiting. And a little thin tongue of fire suddenly flickered in his loins, at the root of his back, and he groaned in spirit. He dreaded with a repulsion almost of death, any further close human contact. He wished above all things she would go away, and leave him to his own privacy. He dreaded her will, her female will, and her modern female insistency. And above all he dreaded her cool, upper-class impudence of having her own way. For after all he was only a hired man. He hated her presence there.
Connie came to herself with sudden uneasiness. She rose. The afternoon was turning to evening, yet she could not go away. She went over to the man, who stood up at attention, his worn face stiff and blank, his eyes watching her.
"It is so nice here, so restful," she said. "I have never been here before."
"No?"
"I think I shall come and sit here sometimes."
"Yes!"
"Do you lock the hut when you're not here?"
"Yes, your Ladyship."
"Do you think I could have a key too, so that I could sit here sometimes? Are there two keys?"
"Not as Ah know on, ther' isna."
He had lapsed into the vernacular. Connie hesitated; he was putting up an opposition. Was it his hut, after all?
"Couldn't we get another key?" she asked in her soft voice, that underneath had the ring of a woman determined to get her way.
"Another!" he said, glancing at her with a flash of anger, touched with derision.
"Yes, a duplicate," she said, flushing.
"Appen Sir Clifford 'ud know," he said, putting her off.
"Yes!" she said, "he might have another. Otherwise we could have one made from the one you have. It would only take a day or so, I suppose. You could spare your key for so long."
"Ah canna tell yer, m' lady! Ah know nob'dy as ma'es keys round ere,"
Connie suddenly flushed with anger.
"Very well!" she said. "I'll see to it."
