"Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. Easy enough to look as if one rides away. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more. Mere formality. We'll come back for that by and by, and the dressing-gown.
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