THREE:"I'm out of practice, or I shouldn't have skinned myself like thisah, here's Coalbran's trap. Perhaps he'll give you a lift, ma'am, into Peasmarsh."She looked round, and this time she saw clearly. About the mirror, along the bed-head, and garlanding the posts, were crude twists and lumps of field flowersdandelions buttercups, moon daisies, oxlips, fennel, and cow-parsley, all bunched up with hay grass, all dry, withered, rotting, and malodorous. There was a great sheaf of them on her pillow, an armful torn up from a hay-field, still smelling of the sun that had blasted it....
