"By all means," rejoined Quilt. "As long as you please, Sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsey. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased. " McClintock whistled. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away.
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