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 ‘You are mighty sensitive for a farm girl!’ said the young man.

Tess made no reply to this remark, of which, indeed, she did not quite comprehend the drift, unheeding the snub she had administered by her instinctive rub upon her cheek. She had, in fact, undone the kiss, as far as such a thing was physically possible. With a dim sense that he was vexed she looked steadily ahead as they trotted on for a further half-hour, till she saw, to her consternation, that there was yet another descent to be undergone.

‘You shall be made sorry for that!’ he resumed, his injured tone still remaining, as he flourished the whip anew. ‘Unless, that is, you agree willingly to let me do it again, and no handkerchief.’

She sighed. ‘Very well, sir!’ she said. ‘Oh—let me get my hat!’

At the moment of speaking her hat had blown off into the road, their present speed on the upland being by no means slow. D’Urberville pulled up, and said he would get it for her, but Tess was down on the other side.

She turned back and picked up the article.