Tess of the d’Urbervilles

Description

On a night in the last piece of May a moderately aged man was strolling back home from Shaston to the town of Marlott, in the bordering Vale of Blakemore, or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that conveyed him were unsteady, and there was an inclination in his stride which slanted him to some degree to one side of a straight line. He infrequently gave a brilliant gesture, as though in affirmation of some assessment, however he was not considering anything specifically. An unfilled egg-bin was thrown upon his arm, the snooze of his cap was unsettled, a fix being very eroded at its edge where his thumb came in taking it off. By and by he was met by an older parson straddling on a dim horse, who, as he rode, murmured a meandering tune.

‘Great night t’ee,’ said the man with the crate.

‘Goodbye, Sir John,’ said the parson.

The person on foot, after another pace or two, ended, and turned round.

‘Presently, sir, asking your excuse; we met keep going business sector day on this street about this time, and I said ‘Goodbye,’ and you made answer ‘Great night, Sir John,’ as now.’

‘I did,’ said the parson.

‘Furthermore, once before that—close to a month prior.’

‘I may have.’