Surely it was a dream. Anyone would be intrigued. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. ” Their eyes met for a moment. Things happen to women—proper women—and all they have to do is to take them well. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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