She found herself beginning to haunt the places where she would be likely to meet him--the edge of the horse-pond or the Glotten brook, the door of the huge, desolate cow-stable, where six cheap Suffolks emphasised the empty stalls. Reuben did not seem to take any notice of her, he had relieved his feelings by dismissing Handshut, and his farm had swallowed him up again. Rose felt defiant and forlorn. Both her husband and her lover seemed to avoid her. She would lean against the great wooden posts of the door, in the listless weary attitude of a woman's despair. Then two days before the end he came. As she was standing by the barn door he appeared at the horse-pond, and crossed over to her at once. He had seen that she was waiting for him--perhaps he had seen it on half a dozen other occasions when she had not seen him. Rose could calm the silly jumps of her heart only by telling herself that this was quite an accidental meeting. She made an effort to be commonplace. "How's Topsy's foal?" "Doing valiant. Will you come out wud me to-morrow evenun to see the toll-burning?" She flushed at his audacity. "No!--how can I?" "You can quite easy, surelye. Mäaster's going to Cranbrook Fair, and wöan't be home till läate. It's the last night, remember." She made a gallant effort to be the old Rose. "What's that to me?--you've got some cheek!" "I'm only not pretending as much as you are. Why shud you pretend? Pretending 'ull give you naun sweet to remember when I'm gone." "What tolls are they going to burn?" "The gëates up at Leasan and Mockbeggar, and then over the marsh to Thornsdale. It 'ud be a shame fur you to miss it, and mäaster can't täake you, since he's going to Cranbrook." "It would never do if people saw us." "Why? Since your husband can't go, wot's more likely than he shud send his man to täake you?" Rose shuddered. "I'm not coming." Handshut turned on his heel. § 19. Already the turnpike gates had disappeared from the greater part of Sussex, but they still lingered in the Rye district, for various reasons, not always bearing close inspection. There had been an anti-toll party both before and after the famous Scott's Float gate had catastrophically ended Reuben's political career--and at last this had carried the day. All the gates were to come down except those on the Military Road, and the neighbourhood was to celebrate their abolition by burning them in tar.