That day he did his work in perturbation of spirit. He had no illusions as to what Sabina would think of the changes he was making. She would be stubbornly opposed to every one of them and Sabina's stubbornness was the force with which for so long he had had to reckon. A gleam of hope came with the thought that even if she recovered she would no longer be able to manage the farm. A poor cripple could not get about the fields, especially such up-and-down fields as those of Wastralls. She would be obliged to appoint a deputy and who so suitable as the man she had married?
He cursed the impatience which had led him astray. If he had waited, the matter would have arranged itself in accordance with his wishes. Now, if Sabina recovered, it was only too likely that she would make it difficult for him to carry out his schemes. He tried to imagine what form her opposition would take, but though he had lived beside her for so long, the writing on the wall was in characters he could not interpret.
To add to his anxieties the man was finding himself short of money. One of his counts against Sabina was that when they married she had refused to have her banking account put in their joint names. "Tedn' a woman's business to sign cheques," he had told her in a futile attempt to bring her to his way of thinking.
She smiled as at a good joke. "I don't think you ever signed a cheque in your life."
"I didn' marry yer for yer money," he assured her hastily.
"Don't bother yerself about it, then. I done business for my old dad all the time you was to sea; and I'd be a pretty malkin if I didn' knaw more about signin' cheques than you do."
"I'm told I ought to be able to draw cheques on your account."
"Shouldn't listen to all you 'ear. If you want money, go and work for't. I'll lend 'ee any to start with."
"There never ought to be two purses between man and wife. They should share alike."
"When you got something," she assured him, "we will."