“Not but I doubt Marget would never ha’ come,” Bob was drawling on in his tired voice. “There’s over much work on a farm to suit her by a deal. I reckon she’d ha’ thought it a dreary spot an’ all. She’s one as likes seeing folks go by, and a sight o’ clattin’ an’ suchlike in the street. But the lad here isn’t bothered wi’ a missis just yet, nor like to be, as far as we know. There’s nowt to keep him from throwing up his job. He’s free to do as suits him, is Tom.” And still Thomas did not speak, ashamed of himself and yet holding himself hard. The aversion with which he had set out to meet this probable demand arose in him again in a fierce flood and all but forced him to his feet. It was a wet night, or he might never have come at all, but on an evening like this Agnes would be sure to be fast at home. There would be no chance of meeting her about the fields or lanes. He could never have brought himself to come so far, while the hope of her face was behind each turn and hedge.... Yet here he was being asked to leave the spot for good—he, whose uncertainty could not stay one hour! Suddenly he spoke, without preamble or excuse, long after the question seemed to have fainted away and died, ashamed. “I’m no use, neither,” he heard himself saying at last, his voice sounding dull and cold over the wrath and shame within. He was still staining at the sky while he spoke. Failure may look at the floor because of the burden on its back, but success, when it makes its refusal, must look up. It was then that the moon slid round the corner, and drew nearer, and looked in. He felt a spasm of rage against it, as at another spectator of the ignoble scene. “Ay, but you’ve the brass saved all right!” Bob exclaimed, twisting his head to get a glimpse of his brother’s face. His discomfort at his own position in the affair seemed for the moment to be swallowed up in surprise. “Many’s the time you’ve tellt me on’t, I’ sure, and how you meant taking a farm afore so long. I’d ha’ thought this had fallen in for you just right.” “I’m not ready,” Thomas said doggedly. “I mun have a bit more time. Happen another year I could see my way....” “A year’s neither here nor there, surely, if yon’s all?” “It’d be two, happen—ay, and maybe more. I don’t rightly know. I can’t rightly say.” “Ay, well, it’s now or never for the old dad,” Bob said. “A year or two’s no use to the old chap, wi’ notice to quit pinned to his jacket-tail. What’s gitten you, lad, to be hanging back like this?” He raised his voice and spoke more firmly, sure of his cause. “The spot’ll suit you, waint it, come to that?” “Ay, I’d like it right well.”