" "Hold your tongue!" cried Mrs. "Fifty now and fifty when I return. Get it off your soul. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. “I can’t endure it,” she said. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. I don’t know. “This place is very beautiful. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No.
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