Joanna could feel Bertie leaning against her as they walked, he was playing with her hand, locking and unlocking her fingers with his. Weren't men queer ... the sudden way they melted at a touch? Martin had been like that--losing his funny sulks.... And now Bertie was just the same. She felt convinced that in one moment ... in two ... he would ask her to be his wife.... "Let's sit down for a bit," she suggested. They sat down by the water side, crushing the meadowsweet till its sickliness grew almost fierce with bruising. She sidled into his arms, and her own crept round him. "Bertie ..." she whispered. Her heart was throbbing quickly, and, as it were, very high--in her throat--choking her. She began to tremble. Looking up she saw his eyes above her, gazing down at her out of a mist--everything seemed misty, trees and sky and sunshine and his dear face.... She was holding him very tight, so tight that she could feel his collar-bones bruising her arms. He was kissing her now, and his kisses were like blows. She suddenly became afraid, and struggled. "Jo, Jo--don't be a fool--don't put me off, now ... you can't, I tell you." But she had come to herself. "No--let me go. I ... it's late--I've got to go home." She was strong enough to push him from her, and scrambled to her feet. They both stood facing each other in the trodden streamside flowers. "I beg your pardon," he said at last. "Oh, it doesn't matter." She was ashamed. Sec.22 She was frightened, too--never in her life had she imagined that she could drift so far as she had drifted in those few seconds. She was still trembling as she led the way back to the church. She could hear him treading after her, and as she thought of him her heart smote her. She felt as if she had hurt him--oh, what had she done to him? What had she denied him? What had she given him to think? As they climbed into the trap she could tell that he was sulking. He looked at her half-defiantly from under his long lashes, and the corners of his mouth were turned down like a child's. The drive home was constrained and nearly silent. Joanna tried to talk about the grazings they had broken at Yokes Court, in imitation of her own successful grain-growing, about her Appeal to the High Court which was to be heard that summer, and the motor-car she would buy if it was successful--but it was obvious that they were both thinking of something else. For the last part of the drive, from Brodnyx to Ansdore, neither of them spoke a word.