It was a March twilight, cold and rustling, and tart with the scents of newly turned furrows. Reuben sat with Alice in the kitchen, and every now and then Jury's wretched house-place would shake as the young gale swept up rainless from the east and poured itself into cracks and chimneys. Alice was sewing as usualit struck Reuben that she was very quick and useful with her fingers, whatever might be her drawbacks in other ways. Sometimes she had offered to read poetry to him, and had once bored him horribly with In Memoriam, but as he had taken no trouble to hide his feelings she had to his great relief announced her intention of casting no more pearls before swine.
There was a big outcry in Peasmarsh against Backfield's treatment of the Realfs. Not a farmer in the district would have kept on a hand who had burnt nearly the whole farm to ashes through bad stacking, but this fact did little to modify the general criticism. A dozen excuses were found for Realf's "accident," as it came to be called"and old Ben cud have afforded to lose a stack or two, surelye."Chapter 3
FORE:"F?ather, fur pity's s?ake""If you fall in love wud a gal you can't say no to her, and she'll find it out lamentable soon. When either of you boys finds a nice strong, sensible gal, wud a bit o' money, and not self-willed, such as 'ull be a good darter-in-law' to me, I shan't have nothing to say ag?unst it.[Pg 399] But d?an't you go running after petticoats and m?ake fools of yourselves and disgrace Odiam, and call it being in love. Love m?akes you soft, and if you're soft you might just as well be buried fur all the good you're likely to do yourself."
FORE:"Oh! don't ask me; but go for Master Calverley. For God's sake, do not stand as if you were bewitched: see! see! he is dying. The poor child! What will become of me? Run, Byles, run, for mercy's sake, and tell Master Calverley."
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"Well, I d?an't know where he is."She was generally able to control these impulses, but as the days slipped by they grew too strong for her untrained resistance. She felt that she must make the most of her chances because they were so limitedbefore he went for ever she must have one more memory of his voice, his lookhis touch ... oh, no! her thoughts had carried her further than she had intended."I know nothing of the sort.""It is an act of charity, stranger, to bury the dead," said father John courteously; "and you are calling down mercy upon your soul like that pious man of old"They reached Odiam, both feeling that the glory of those last three months had departed. The sight of Boarzell, lying black and hullish across their path, had made them realise that their happiness was but an interval, an interlude between more significant, more sinister things. Naomi had lost her peace and confidence, she seemed to avoid her husband, was tongue-tied in his presence, gave him a hurried good night from the door. Reuben was silent and meditativewhen his eyes rested on Naomi they were half regretful.