"I'm only an every-day sort of man, and my only chance was in being the first comer ...

Well, there's no use in my waiting, for that was all I came about: so I'll take myself off home-along, Mrs.Hurst." When Gabriel had gone about two hundred yards along the down, he heard a "hoi-hoi!" uttered behind him, in a piping note of more treble quality than that in which the exclamation usually embodies itself when shouted across a field.

He looked round, and saw a girl racing after him, waving a white handkerchief.
Oak stood still--and the runner drew nearer.

It was Bathsheba Everdene.

Gabriel's colour deepened: hers was already deep, not, as it appeared, from emotion, but from running.
"Farmer Oak--I--" she said, pausing for want of breath pulling up in front of him with a slanted face and putting her hand to her side.
"I have just called to see you," said Gabriel, pending her further speech.
"Yes--I know that," she said panting like a robin, her face red and moist from her exertions, like a peony petal before the sun dries off the dew.