"A towel? Fancying carrying a towel to wipe oneself with when it
rained! It is evident you don't know our country. There are weeks
sometimes in which it never ceases to rain. And you must be wet through
yourself," she added, glancing at him.
He was on his knees at the moment carefully wiping the old habit skirt
with his saturated handkerchief as if the former were something
precious; and her woman's eye noted his short crisp hair, the shapely
head and the straight broad back.
"I'm afraid that's all I can do!" he said, regretfully, as he rose and
looked at her gravely. "Do you mean to say that you habitually ride out
in such weather as this?"
"Why, yes!" she replied, lightly. "Why not? I am too substantial to
melt, and I never catch cold. Besides, I have to go out in all weathers
to see to the cattle and the sheep."
He leant against one of the posts which supported the shed, and gazed
at her with more intense interest than any other woman had ever aroused
in him.
"Isn't there a foreman, a bailiff, whatever you call him, in these
parts?"
She shook her head.
"No; we cannot afford one; so I do his work.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147