“To the widow? In faith—to tell the truth—” he stopped, embarrassed.
“Well, will you answer me?”
“Some say so and some do not—I know nothing and have seen nothing.”
“And you just told me that they do not talk about her in the country?”
“That is all they have said, and I supposed you knew that.”
“In a word, yes or no?”
“Yes, sir, I think so, at least.”
I arose from the table and walked down the road; Mercanson was there. I expected he would try to avoid me; on the contrary he approached me.
“Sir,” he said, “you exhibited signs of anger which it does not become a man of my character to resent. I wish to express my regret that I was charged to communicate a message which appeared so unwelcome.”
I returned his compliment, supposing he would leave me at once; but he walked along at my side.