Gabriel looked at her with a little surprise and much admiration.

`That's the very thing I had been thinking myself!' he naïvely said. Farmer Oak had one-and-a-half Christian characteristics too many to succeed with Bathsheba: his humility, and a superfluous moiety of honesty. Bathsheba was decidedly disconcerted.

`Well, then, why did you come and disturb me?' she said, almost angrily, if not quite, an enlarging red spot rising in each cheek.

`I can't do what I think would he - would be--'

`Right?'

`No: wise.'

`You have made an admission now, Mr Oak,' she claimed with even more hauteur, and rocking her head disdainfully. `After that, do you think I could marry you? Not if I know it.'

He broke in passionately: `But don't mistake me like that! Because I am open enough to own what every man in my shoes would have thought of, you make your colours come up your face ind get crabbed with me. That about you not being good enough for one is nonsense. You speak like a lady - all the parish notice it, and your uncle at Weatherbury is, I've heard, a large farmer - much larger than ever I shall be. May I call in the evening, or will you walk along with me o' Sundays? I don't want you to make up your mind at once, if you'd rather not.'

`No - no - I cannot. Don't press me any more - don't. I don't love you - so 'twould be ridiculous,' she said, with a laugh.

No man likes to see his emotions the sport of a merry-ground of skittishness. `Very well,' said Oak firmly, with the bearing of one who was going to give his days and nights to Ecclesiastes for ever. `Then I'll ask you no more.'