‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. "What does he say?" roared the long drover. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind.
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