I complained of the heat.

The sun hurt my eyes.
"We can go back, if you desire it," said Richard, with a shade of sternness in his voice, stopping the horses suddenly, after two miles of what would have been ill-temper if we had been married, but was now perhaps only petulance.
"I don't desire it," I said, quite frightened, "but I do wish we could go a little faster till we get into the shade." After that, there was naturally very little pleasure in conversation.

I felt angry with Richard and ashamed of myself.

For him, I am afraid his feelings were very bitter, and his silence the cover of a sore heart.

We had started to take a certain drive; we both wished it over, I suppose, but both lacked courage to shorten it, or go home before we were expected.