A Farmer’s Life 
exploiter or patronising admirer, but as a com- 
rade and an expert. ‘That was the impression 
he still gave. He was no gentleman-resident or 
tourist, but a strong and confident provincial. 
His cheerfulness was a symptom of his success. 
One evening, I own, he broke into sobbing. It 
came from an emotion largely of thankfulness 
for the happiness he was feeling. But as a rule 
he was in good heart, if never exaétly jolly. 
His manner of talk was worth watching—very 
quiet and easy; now and then hanging up for a 
word or for a name, now and then gathering into 
a little rush on top of a gentle splash of laughter. 
Then there were minutes—not dragged out, yet 
making appreciable pauses—in which he seemed 
to be collecting strength to go on again, or to be 
forcing himself, perhaps, to take no notice of 
the pain in his limbs. His eyes looked tired; 
he shut them for a moment or so in exhaustion. 
His lips too he put together with a patient air. 
Then, the lips parting, there was an instant’s 
indrawing of breath before speech began again 
—an indrawing, a momentary hesitation, as if 
to make quite sure that nobody else wanted to 
speak. He would not intrude his memories; 
he would not interrupt. If you had something 
to say, his manner seemed to urge that your talk 
would be more important than his. Only, in 
the event of your not wishing to make any remark 
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