He felt angry, ashamed, uncomfortable.

He did not turn once to look at her face, dimly visible by the light of the young moon--the hunter's moon--now sinking over the slope of the hill.

Thick dust--too thick for the heavy dew to lay--covered the cart-track down to the farm, muffling their footsteps.

Lizzie paused by the gate.
"Best go in separate," she said; paused again and whispered, "You may if you like." "May do what ?" "What--what young Squire Vyell wanted." They were face to face now.

She held up her lips, and as she did so they parted in an amorous little laugh.