She sat still, looking down at him when he had helped her to the saddle.
"I'm afraid you have a good many difficulties to face," she said.
"Yes," assented George.

"A dry summer is bad for wheat on my light soil, and that is why I thought of going in for stock." He paused with a rueful smile.

"It doesn't promise to be a great improvement, if I'm to have my best beasts shot." She pointed to the west.

The grass about them was still scorched with fierce sunshine, but leaden cloud-masses, darkly rolled together with a curious bluish gleam in them, covered part of the sky.
"This time it will rain," she said.

"We will be fortunate if we get no more than that.