The night was hot and she unfastened the clasp of her cloak, breathing a trifle quickly. Our husbands don't care to walk home with us. Your father was bent on your coming. They had reached the meadow now, halfway through their journey. A little gate led into it and Harry stopped, leaning his arm on the top rail.
Mere stature has much effect and the little boy stage seemed very far away.
And he knew that it did, for he put out his hand to take hers. She drew back. She took hold of the gate and he, yielding his place, let her pass through. For a minute or two they walked on in silence. See, we are nearly home.