It was a slim girl, rather thinly clad.
"Good-night to you," said Gabriel, heartily.
"Good-night," said the girl to Gabriel.
The voice was unexpectedly attractive; it was the low and dulcet note suggestive of romance; common in descriptions, rare in experience.
"I'll thank you to tell me if I'm in the way for Warren's Malthouse?" Gabriel resumed, primarily to gain the information, indirectly to get more of the music.
"Quite right. It's at the bottom of the hill. And do you know———" The girl hesitated and then went on again. "Do you know how late they keep open the 'Buck's Head Inn?'" She seemed to be won by Gabriel's heartiness, as Gabriel had been won by her modulations.
"I don't know where the 'Buck's Head' is, or anything about it. Do you think of going there to-night?"
"Yes———." The female again paused. There was no necessity for any continuance of speech, and the fact that she did add more seemed to proceed from an unconscious desire to show unconcern by making a remark, which is noticeable in the ingenuous when they are acting by stealth. "You are not a Weatherbury man?" she said, timorously.
"I am not. I am the new shepherd—just arrived."
