His nearest way lay through some fields. It was a dangerous, because an untrodden way. He did not care; he would take it. Near the second stile rose a clump of trees. Was that an umbrella waiting there? Yes, an umbrella, held with evident difficulty against the blast; behind it fluttered a French-gray cloak. Martin grinned as he toiled up the steep, encumbered field, difficult to the foot as a slope in the upper realms of Etna. There was an inimitable look in his face when, having gained the stile, he seated himself coolly thereupon, and thus opened a conference which, for his own part, he was willing to prolong indefinitely.
"I think you had better strike a bargain. Exchange me for Mrs. Pryor."

His nearest way lay through some untrodden fields. Near the second stile rose a clump of trees. Was that an umbrella waiting there? Yes, an umbrella, held with difficulty against the blast; behind it fluttered a French-grey cloak. Martin grinned as he toiled up the steep field. He seated himself coolly upon the stile, and said:
"I think you had better strike a bargain. Exchange me for Mrs. Pryor."
