Those were not very good times for Caro. She envied Rose, and at the same time she loved her, as women will so often love those they envy. Rose's attitude was one of occasional enthusiasm and occasional neglect. Sometimes she would give her unexpected treats, make her presents of clothes, or take her to a fair or to see the shops; at others she would seem to forget all about her. She thought Caro a poor thing for not standing up to Reuben, and despised her for her lack of feminine wiles. At the same time she would often be extremely confidential, she would pour out stories of love and kisses by moonlight, of ardent words, of worship, of ecstasy, and send Caro wandering over strange paths, asking strange questions of herself and fate, and sometimes--to the other's delight--of Rose. "Wot do you do to make a man kiss you?" "Oh, I dunno. I just look at him like this with my eyes half shut. Then if that isn't enough I part my lips--so." The two women had been bathing. It was one of Rose's complaints that Odiam did not make enough provision for personal cleanliness in the way of baths and tubs. Reuben objected if she made the servant run up and downstairs ten times or so with jugs of hot water to fill a wash-tub in her bedroom--they had once had a battle royal about it, during which Rose had said some humorous things about her man's washing--so in summer she relieved the tension by bathing in the Glotten brook, where it ran temporarily limpid and reclused at the foot of the old hop-garden. She had persuaded Caro to join her in this adventure--according to her ideas it was not becoming for a woman to bathe alone; so Caro had conquered her objections to undressing behind a bush, and tasted for the first time the luxury of a daily, or all but daily, bath. Now they were dry and dressed once more, all except their stockings, for Rose loved to splash her bare feet in the water--she adored the caress of water on her skin. It was a hot day, the sun blinked through the heavy green of the sallows, dabbling the stream with spots and ripples of light. June had come, with a thick swarthiness in the fields, and the scent of hayseed scorching into ripeness. Rose leaned back against a trunk, a froth of fine linen round her knees. She splashed and kicked her feet in the stream. "Yes--I've only to look at a man like this ... and he always does it." "But not now!" cried Caro. "What do you mean by 'not now'?" "Now you're married." "Oh, no--I'm talking of before. All the same...." "Wot!" "Nothing. You'd be shocked." Caro looked gloomily at the water. She did not like being told she would be shocked, though she knew she would be. At that moment there was a sound of "git back" and "woa" beyond the hedge. The next minute two horses stepped into the Glotten just by the bend. "That must be Handshut," said Rose. It was. He came knee-deep into the water with the horses, and, not seeing the women, plunged his head into the cool reed-sweetened stickle.