The bell had been silent for a minute, and the curate’s voice had begun to drone within the building. The rivals were alone, and nobody was within sight or earshot. ‘Shall we walk a pace or two, Mr. Protheroe?’ asked John. Mr. Protheroe, without speaking, sauntered out at the gate, vaulted a stile opposite, and paused in a field pathway. Thistlewood followed, throwing first one leg and then the other over the rail with a sort of laboured deliberation. ‘Now,’ said Lane. ‘We’ll walk on a little bit,’ answered Thistlewood, and there was silence for a minute or two as they strode along the grass. Then when they had reached the shelter of a little copse which hid them from the whole landscape on the church side, John said, ‘Now,’ in turn, and the two halted. Each was paler than common by this time, and Lane’s eyes sparkled, whilst the other’s burned steady with resentment. ‘’Twixt man and man as is willing to come to understand one another, Mr. Protheroe,’ said Thistlewood, ‘a very few words suffices. I’ll have thee nor no man else poaching on my manor.’ ‘Well,’ Lane answered, ‘if ever I should arrive at owning a manor, I’d say the same. But I’d be sure of my title-deeds afore I took to warning other men off the ground.’ ‘Let’s talk plain English,’ said John, apparently quite untouched by this rejoinder. ‘With all my heart,’ said his rival, ‘the plainer the better.’ ‘I find you very much i’ my way,’ Thistlewood began ponderously. ‘I don’t find you a little bit in mine,’ Lane answered. ‘You talk to sting,’ said Thistlewood, with dull dignity. ‘I want to talk so as to be understood. I find you very much i’ my way, as I was saying, and I won’t have you theer.’ ‘No?’ ‘No!’ ‘And how do you mean to set about getting rid of me?’ ‘I’ve set about harder jobs than that i’ _my_ time, lad.’ ‘Like enough. But how do you mean to set about this one?’ ‘All in good time,’ said Thistlewood. ‘Sha’st find out speedily.’ ‘Show me now,’ said Lane. A breach of the peace seemed imminent, but, ‘Afore thee and me comes to that,’ the elder answered, ‘I want thee to have fair warnin’. It’s unbecomin’ in a man to brawl over the maid he wants to marry---- I’m a man as never changed nor halted nor turned aside from anything he set his mind upon. I’ve been courtin’ Miss Fellowes now this three year. It stands to reason as a frivolish young chap like you can mek no count of how a man feels, or of what a man ‘ud do in a like case.’ ‘That stands to reason, does it?’ ‘It stands to reason,’ answered Thistlewood. ‘I suppose it stands to reason likewise that I am to stand to one side, and leave the road clear after this?’