The sound of a man's footstep made her look up. She saw Dick Dennehy before her. He had come in from the garden, and was just clutching off his hat at the sight of her.
"Mr. Dennehy! I didn't know you were coming here to-day."
"No more did I, Mrs. Maxon, till a couple of hours ago. I found I had nothing to do, so I ran down to see how you were all getting on."
"Some of us are just getting off," smiled Winnie. "You're in time to say good-bye."
"Why, where are you off to? I'm sorry you're going."
With a saucy glance Winnie pushed a luggage label across the table towards him. He took it up, studied it, and laid it down again without a word.
"Well?" said Winnie.
He spread out a pair of pudgy splay-fingered hands and shook his shock-haired head in sincere if humorous despair.
"You're all heathens here, and it's no good talking to you as if you were anything else."
"I'm not a heathen, but if the Church backs up the State in unjust laws——"