ONE:"Wot does a liddle thing lik that count when it's all so miserable?"
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ONE:Tilly was not looking at all like Naomi to-night.
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ONE:That autumn he had sown catch-crops of Italian rye grass, which gave the stock a good early winter feed. He had grown sharper in his dealings with the land, he knew how to take it at a disadvantage, snatch out a few roots. Every inch of the farm was now at work, for every blade of grass now counted. He had even dug up the garden, casting aside rose-bushes, sweet-peas, and dahlias for dull rows of drum-head cabbages, potatoes, kale, and beans. And manure ... there was manure everywhere, lying under the very parlour windows, sending up its effluvium on the foggy winter air till it crept into even the close-shut bedroom, making Naomi conscious of Reuben in her dreams."H?ald your false tongue. You're no wife o' mine from this day forrard. I w?an't be cuckolded in my own house."
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