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She
put
on
some
more
coal
,
unfolded
the
clothes-horse
,
and
extended
the
traveller
's
coat
upon
this
.
"
And
they
goggles
!
Why
,
he
looked
more
like
a
divin
'
helmet
than
a
human
man
!
"
She
hung
his
muffler
on
a
corner
of
the
horse
.
"
And
holding
that
handkerchief
over
his
mouth
all
the
time
.
Talkin
'
through
it
!
...
Perhaps
his
mouth
was
hurt
too
--
maybe
.
"
She
turned
round
,
as
one
who
suddenly
remembers
.
"
Bless
my
soul
alive
!
"
she
said
,
going
off
at
a
tangent
;
"
ai
n't
you
done
them
taters
yet
,
Millie
?
"
When
Mrs.
Hall
went
to
clear
away
the
stranger
's
lunch
,
her
idea
that
his
mouth
must
also
have
been
cut
or
disfigured
in
the
accident
she
supposed
him
to
have
suffered
,
was
confirmed
,
for
he
was
smoking
a
pipe
,
and
all
the
time
that
she
was
in
the
room
he
never
loosened
the
silk
muffler
he
had
wrapped
round
the
lower
part
of
his
face
to
put
the
mouthpiece
to
his
lips
.
Yet
it
was
not
forgetfulness
,
for
she
saw
he
glanced
at
it
as
it
smouldered
out
.
He
sat
in
the
corner
with
his
back
to
the
window-blind
and
spoke
now
,
having
eaten
and
drunk
and
being
comfortably
warmed
through
,
with
less
aggressive
brevity
than
before
.
The
reflection
of
the
fire
lent
a
kind
of
red
animation
to
his
big
spectacles
they
had
lacked
hitherto
.
"
I
have
some
luggage
,
"
he
said
,
"
at
Bramblehurst
station
,
"
and
he
asked
her
how
he
could
have
it
sent
.
He
bowed
his
bandaged
head
quite
politely
in
acknowledgment
of
her
explanation
.
"
To-morrow
?
"
he
said
.
"
There
is
no
speedier
delivery
?
"
and
seemed
quite
disappointed
when
she
answered
,
"
No
.
"
Was
she
quite
sure
?
No
man
with
a
trap
who
would
go
over
?
Mrs.
Hall
,
nothing
loath
,
answered
his
questions
and
developed
a
conversation
.
"
It
's
a
steep
road
by
the
down
,
sir
,
"
she
said
in
answer
to
the
question
about
a
trap
;
and
then
,
snatching
at
an
opening
,
said
,
"
It
was
there
a
carriage
was
upsettled
,
a
year
ago
and
more
.
A
gentleman
killed
,
besides
his
coachman
.
Accidents
,
sir
,
happen
in
a
moment
,
do
n't
they
?
"
But
the
visitor
was
not
to
be
drawn
so
easily
.
"
They
do
,
"
he
said
through
his
muffler
,
eyeing
her
quietly
through
his
impenetrable
glasses
.
"
But
they
take
long
enough
to
get
well
,
do
n't
they
?
...
There
was
my
sister
's
son
,
Tom
,
jest
cut
his
arm
with
a
scythe
,
tumbled
on
it
in
the
'
ayfield
,
and
,
bless
me
!
he
was
three
months
tied
up
sir
.
You
'd
hardly
believe
it
.
It
's
regular
given
me
a
dread
of
a
scythe
,
sir
.
"
"
I
can
quite
understand
that
,
"
said
the
visitor
.
"
He
was
afraid
,
one
time
,
that
he
'd
have
to
have
an
op
'
ration
--
he
was
that
bad
,
sir
.
"
The
visitor
laughed
abruptly
,
a
bark
of
a
laugh
that
he
seemed
to
bite
and
kill
in
his
mouth
.
"
Was
he
?
"
he
said
.
