"Yes."
"She is dying, ain't she?"
"I fear she is very ill."
"I tell you, she's dying—and it's better that she is."
She then relapsed into her former mood, but after a while, as Harold paused at the window and looked out, she spoke again.
"Will it soon be day?"
"Within an hour, I think," replied Harold. "Do you go back at daylight?"
"Yes."
"You have no horse?"
"You'll lend me one, won't you? If you don't, I don't care; I can walk."