Page 241 - sons-and-lovers

‘Hello!’ she said, soft and musical. ‘I knew it was you.’
‘How?’
‘I knew your step. Nobody treads so quick and firm.’
He sat down, sighing.
‘Ready to do some algebra?’ he asked, drawing a little
book from his pocket.
‘But—-‘
He could feel her backing away.
‘You said you wanted,’ he insisted.
‘To-night, though?’ she faltered.
‘But I came on purpose. And if you want to learn it, you
must begin.’
She took up her ashes in the dustpan and looked at him,
half tremulously, laughing.
‘Yes, but to-night! You see, I haven’t thought of it.’
‘Well, my goodness! Take the ashes and come.’
He went and sat on the stone bench in the back-yard,
where the big milk-cans were standing, tipped up, to air.
The men were in the cowsheds. He could hear the little sing-
song of the milk spurting into the pails. Presently she came,
bringing some big greenish apples.
‘You know you like them,’ she said.
He took a bite.
‘Sit down,’ he said, with his mouth full.
She was short-sighted, and peered over his shoulder. It
irritated him. He gave her the book quickly.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s only letters for figures. You put down
‘a’ instead of ‘2’ or ‘6’.’
They worked, he talking, she with her head down on the

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