Chapter 70

Ralph was suddenly collected, cool, detached. He did not feel at all as if he had done it. But somehow he did not feel like going home quite yet. He picked up the rabbits and got over into the sheep-field. Robert, who had stood still at the shot, came across the field. Ralph was genial, unusually so. He was gay. And it seemed to Robert curious that a man with sweat running down his face (which he could see by the light of the climbing moon)—sweat which, in such weather, in itself needed explanation—should have this…