'She is not going at present—say for a year or so. I am going out to reconnoitre—to see what life there is like.'
They sped along eastward for some considerable distance, Izz making no observation.
'How are the others?' he inquired. 'How is Retty?'
'She is in a sort of nervous state; and so thin and hollow-cheeked that 'a do seem in a decline. Nobody will ever fall in love wi' her any more,' said Izz absently.
'And Marian?'
Izz lowered her voice.
'Marian drinks.'
'Indeed!'
'Yes. The dairyman says he must get rid of her.'
'And you?'
'I don't drink, and I am not in a decline. But—I am no great things at singing afore breakfast now!'
'How is that? Do you remember how neatly you used to turn "'Twas down Cupid's Gardens" and "The Tailor's Breeches" at morning milking?'
