She might be the same woman, but her effect upon others, and in particular on himself, would be different. "'Ow be 'ee?"
"I've 'ad a prettily and draggin' time, but now I'm doin' grand."
He uttered a rough sound of no meaning, but she took it to be congratulatory.
"I shall be up afore long."
"Up?" he murmured, glancing sideways at the bed.
"I shall get Raby Gregor to make me a little trolly so that I can get about."
He pushed his chair farther away. In spite of appearances she was not a woman, but the distorted remnant of one. A shiver ran down his spine. "You bain't thinkin' of—of tryin' to get about?"
"Me not gettin' about? Iss. You've never seen me settin' down wi' me 'ands folded."
"But you'll find things'll be different now," he stammered. He thought of the trolly as some sort of wheel-chair. He had no conception of his wife's inventiveness or of her indifference to comment. "You've been a strong woman, but you can't look to be that again."
The resolute look he knew so well came into Sabina's eyes, and for a moment he doubted whether after all she would not conquer her disabilities. "I bain't strong now," she said, "but a month or two'll make all the difference. I'll soon be up and about again."