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She settled her chin again, tucked her hands away in the squirrel muff and went quickly toward the door. He followed. "Let me putt Daasy in t' trap, Miss Cartaret, and drive yo' home." "I wouldn't think of it. Thank you all the same." She was in the kitchen now, on the outer threshold. He followed her there. "Miss Cartaret " She turned. "Well?" His face was flushed to the eyes.
As if she had been his first-born, or his bride, he spoke to her in the thick, soft voice of passion, with pitiful, broken words and mutterings. "What is it, Daasy what is it? There, did they, then, did they? My beauty my lil laass. I I wuss a domned brute to forget tha, a domned brute." All that night and the next night he lay beside her.
Willie, the farm lad, appeared on the threshold. His face was flushed and scared. "Where's Jim?" he said in a thick voice. "Ooosh-sh! Doan't yo' knaw t' coffin's coom? 'E's oopstairs w' t' owd maaster." "Well 'e mun coom down. T' mare's taaken baad again in 'er insi-ide." "T' mare, Daasy?" "Yes." "Eh dear, there's naw end to trooble. Yo go oop and fatch Jimmy." Willie hesitated.
Can you hold her?" "That I can. Coom oop, Daasy. Coom oop. There, my beauty. Gently, gently, owd laass." Rowcliffe took off his coat and shook up the drench and poured it into the pannikin, while Greatorex got the struggling mare on to her feet. Together, with gentleness and dexterity they cajoled her. Then Jim laid his hands upon her mouth and opened it, drawing up her head against his breast.
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