Explore "The Vintage" by E.F. Benson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For a space they went on in silence; it was as much as Yanni could do to grip his horse, for he still felt nauseous and giddy reelings in his head, and Mitsos trotted behind, with an incessant stick for the mules to make them keep up the pace. They were of the sedater sort, that hitherto had strolled through life, and they did not take kindly to a higher rate of going. But at the end of some half an hour Yanni reined in.
"Let's go slow a bit," he said, "for we are out of the range of risks. We are in our own country again; no one saw us go to the mill except my cousin Christos, and they might pull his tongue out before he spoke. Besides, there is nothing to say. The mill blew up. The matter is finished."