Then, as the boat, having gained a clear reach of water, faded down in the gathering dusk, she arose and stretched herself.
"For anyone but Bill I wouldn' risk it," she said.

"But maybe his credit depends on gettin' them 'osses delivered to-night." She took Arthur Miles by the hand, found the road, and dragged him uphill at a trot towards the group of red brick buildings that showed between the trees.
The buildings consisted of a cottage and a long stable or coach-house contiguous.

This presented a blank white-washed wall to the road, but a Gloire de Dijon rose spread itself over the cottage front, almost smothering a board with the inscription: _S.

Holly and Son, Carters and Hauliers_.
Tilda knocked, and her knock was answered by a sour-visaged woman.
"Well, an' what can I do for you ?" asked the woman, staring down from her doorstep on the children.
"If you please, ma'am, is Mr.'Olly at 'ome ?" "No, he ain't." "I knew it," said Tilda tranquilly.

"But by all accounts 'e's got a son." "Eh ?" The woman still stared, divided between surprise and mistrust.
"You're mistakin'," Tilda pursued.