"An abbreviated sonnet?" Hurst said with interest, watching his son finish loading, and turning his attention back to the shoot, his eyes picking out the movement of one of the creatures below the hedge, "There, do you see?" He said, pointing to where the rabbit was emerging from the warren.
"You and Abigail Mountford-Miles have known each other for a long time, haven't you, Charles?" He asks, wondering if this was a match his wife had already investigated but decided against. "This sonnet of yours wouldn't happen to be of a Romantic nature, would it?"