He was moving slowly towards them, still distant about two
hundred yards; a great red beast, with the huge development of neck and
front which makes the bull, of all living creatures, the symbol of brute
force.
Lady Casterley envisaged him severely.
"I dislike bulls," she said; "I think I must walk backward."
"You can't; it's too uphill."
"I am not going to turn back," said Lady Casterley. "The bull ought not
to be here. Whose fault is it? I shall speak to someone. Stand still and
look at him. We must prevent his coming nearer."
They stood still and looked at the bull, who continued to approach.
"It doesn't stop him," said Lady Casterley. "We must take no notice.
Give me your arm, my dear; my legs feel rather funny."
Barbara put her arm round the little figure. They walked on.
"I have not been used to bulls lately," said Lady Casterley. The bull
came nearer.
"Granny," said Barbara, "you must go quietly on to the stile. When
you're over I'll come too."
"Certainly not," said Lady Casterley, "we will go together. Take no
notice of him; I have great faith in that."
"Granny darling, you must do as I say, please; I remember this bull, he
is one of ours."
At those rather ominous words Lady Casterley gave her a sharp glance.
"I shall not go," she said. "My legs feel quite strong now. We can run,
if necessary.
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