was still a little on her dignity.
The last button undone, Jeremy saw that the ankle was indeed swollen. He took the heel of the boot and applied slight pressure. She winced.
‘I can't stand that.'
'I should cut it off for you. That is if you do not mind the damage to the boot.' 'No. Oh, no. But ...'
He looked at her. She had always been 'Mrs Pope' to him, he 'Jeremy' to her. It marked the difference in their status, in die relationship of a young man towards a married woman who acted in loco parentis towards two girls he was supposed to admire. It need not mean that their relationship had to remain on that level, though it had never occurred to him before that it should ever be otherwise.
She said: 'Can you not go and fetch help?'
'That of course I'll do. But your foot would be more comfortable if I cut the boot away first.' He fished in his pocket and took out his folding knife. The blade, he knew, was sharp for he had honed it yesterday.
He unfolded the knife and slid it between her leg and the material of the boot. She watched him with interest.
The knife cut through the kid without even tearing her stocking. When he had eased off the boot she said: 'Thank you, Jeremy.'
'A pleasure.'
She lowered her eyes. 'Yes, my foot is swollen.'
'If you will take your stocking off, I'll bind it with a cold cloth. I passed a ditch with water in it on the other side of this field.'
'Where is the cloth to come from ?' 'My kerchief will do.' 'Can you not catch Amboy?'
'I don't think there is the least chance. He's out to enjoy himself. In any case you could not ride him home.' ‘ Well ...'
'Why did you call him Amboy?' 'Why not?'
‘I t is an unusual name.'
‘I t was where we lived in America. Just south of New York.'
Jeremy squatted a moment longer beside her. The sun was setting into summer mists. A shoal of gnats glinted as they hovered among the foxgloves.
‘I never thought to ask. Are you American, then?'
'My mother was. But no. Not really. It happened that I was born in Essex.'
He got up. I’ll go and soak this kerchief. If you could take your stocking off while I'm away.'
He walked across to the ditch which contained just enough drainage water from yesterday's rain. He tore the kerchief down the middle and soaked half of it. When he went back he found she had obeyed him. He grinned at her in a friendly, youthful fashion to take the charge out of the situation and bound the linen round her naked foot and ankle. As it happened he had never seen a woman with painted toe-nails before. At first he had thought it was blood. The look of them fascinated him.
She said: 'It was fortunate you were passing.'
'So shines a good deed in a naughty world.'
'What is that?'
'That? I don't know. I believe I learned it at school.' 'Were you coming back from St Ann's?' 'Yes. I had been consulting with the captain of Wheal Kitty.'
'You are very clever, I'm told - passing brilliant in designing engines.'
‘I am not an inventor, Mrs Pope. I work on other people's ideas and sometimes I hope to improve on them a little.'
'That is all any inventor does, Jeremy. Each one takes a little step forward building upon the last.' He smiled. 'That's a kind way to regard it.' 'And right.'
'Partly right. But the true inventors are those who make the big steps, where no one has quite thought to step before ... Do you have a pin?'
She hesitated, then took out a short pin with a silver head from the lapel of her jacket.
'Thank you.' He slid it through the end of the bandage to hold it in place.
Amboy was still peacefully tearing at the grass quite nearby.
'Do you think you cari catch him?' 'No. Not without help. Or not till he's cold and tired.' 'Well, perhaps you would be good enough to fetch help.'
He straightened up. 'It is not quite how a surgeon would have done it, but it should hold. I'll carry you home.'
She looked up at him, sandy lashes narrowed over wisteria blue eyes. 'It is more than a mile,' she said coldly. 'Pray don't
The last button undone, Jeremy saw that the ankle was indeed swollen. He took the heel of the boot and applied slight pressure. She winced.
‘I can't stand that.'
'I should cut it off for you. That is if you do not mind the damage to the boot.' 'No. Oh, no. But ...'
He looked at her. She had always been 'Mrs Pope' to him, he 'Jeremy' to her. It marked the difference in their status, in die relationship of a young man towards a married woman who acted in loco parentis towards two girls he was supposed to admire. It need not mean that their relationship had to remain on that level, though it had never occurred to him before that it should ever be otherwise.
She said: 'Can you not go and fetch help?'
'That of course I'll do. But your foot would be more comfortable if I cut the boot away first.' He fished in his pocket and took out his folding knife. The blade, he knew, was sharp for he had honed it yesterday.
He unfolded the knife and slid it between her leg and the material of the boot. She watched him with interest.
The knife cut through the kid without even tearing her stocking. When he had eased off the boot she said: 'Thank you, Jeremy.'
'A pleasure.'
She lowered her eyes. 'Yes, my foot is swollen.'
'If you will take your stocking off, I'll bind it with a cold cloth. I passed a ditch with water in it on the other side of this field.'
'Where is the cloth to come from ?' 'My kerchief will do.' 'Can you not catch Amboy?'
'I don't think there is the least chance. He's out to enjoy himself. In any case you could not ride him home.' ‘ Well ...'
'Why did you call him Amboy?' 'Why not?'
‘I t is an unusual name.'
‘I t was where we lived in America. Just south of New York.'
Jeremy squatted a moment longer beside her. The sun was setting into summer mists. A shoal of gnats glinted as they hovered among the foxgloves.
‘I never thought to ask. Are you American, then?'
'My mother was. But no. Not really. It happened that I was born in Essex.'
He got up. I’ll go and soak this kerchief. If you could take your stocking off while I'm away.'
He walked across to the ditch which contained just enough drainage water from yesterday's rain. He tore the kerchief down the middle and soaked half of it. When he went back he found she had obeyed him. He grinned at her in a friendly, youthful fashion to take the charge out of the situation and bound the linen round her naked foot and ankle. As it happened he had never seen a woman with painted toe-nails before. At first he had thought it was blood. The look of them fascinated him.
She said: 'It was fortunate you were passing.'
'So shines a good deed in a naughty world.'
'What is that?'
'That? I don't know. I believe I learned it at school.' 'Were you coming back from St Ann's?' 'Yes. I had been consulting with the captain of Wheal Kitty.'
'You are very clever, I'm told - passing brilliant in designing engines.'
‘I am not an inventor, Mrs Pope. I work on other people's ideas and sometimes I hope to improve on them a little.'
'That is all any inventor does, Jeremy. Each one takes a little step forward building upon the last.' He smiled. 'That's a kind way to regard it.' 'And right.'
'Partly right. But the true inventors are those who make the big steps, where no one has quite thought to step before ... Do you have a pin?'
She hesitated, then took out a short pin with a silver head from the lapel of her jacket.
'Thank you.' He slid it through the end of the bandage to hold it in place.
Amboy was still peacefully tearing at the grass quite nearby.
'Do you think you cari catch him?' 'No. Not without help. Or not till he's cold and tired.' 'Well, perhaps you would be good enough to fetch help.'
He straightened up. 'It is not quite how a surgeon would have done it, but it should hold. I'll carry you home.'
She looked up at him, sandy lashes narrowed over wisteria blue eyes. 'It is more than a mile,' she said coldly. 'Pray don't
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