In the afternoon in the farm-yard, there were people about, and no chance of having Pender. My aunt’s male in-door servants consisted but of a middle-aged butler who had been in her service many years, a slow, solemn man, a widower, and a page taken on when small, who had recently grown rapidly, and was a heavy, stupid, gawky lad, between fifteen and sixteen years old, too big for his place. A great bell which when pulled set a dog barking was the way of getting in, after dark. I had never after the clap had a woman until the doctor said I might. “You were tired, and went to bed early I expect”, said aunt. In the afternoon I went to the farm-yard, and prowled about to find some chance, and place to get Pender, and went up into the big loft in the barn over the cart-shed. I promised to join them, and directly they were out of sight cut off to Pender, dodged all round the rick-yard to see if I was alone, and found her tranquilly churning butter. The head farm-man had recently died, he, his wife and daughter, had lived in the cottage in the farm-yard. What a ballocking I gave her, with the summer sun shining through a window on to us, as we lay together
