lifted her arms and rushed sheer upon the long-horned bullocks, in shuddering irregular runs, pausing for a second and looking at them, then lifting her hands and running forward with a flash, till they ceased pawing the ground, and gave way, snorting with terror, lifting their heads from the ground and flinging themselves away, galloping off into the evening, becoming tiny in the distance, and still not stopping.

Gudrun remained staring after them, with a mask-like defiant face.

‘Why do you want to drive them mad?’ asked Gerald, coming up with her.

She took no notice of him, only averted her face from him. ‘It’s not safe, you know,’ he persisted. ‘They’re nasty, when they do turn.’