Trewhella sighed regretfully.
"You are a sneak," said Jenny.
"Oh, I wish I could see your heart, missus. Look, I've never asked 'ee this before. How many men have loved 'ee before I did?"
"Hundreds," said Jenny mockingly.
"Kissed 'ee?" shrieked Trewhella.
"Of course. Why not?"
Veins wrote themselves across his forehead, veins livid as the vipers of Medusa.
"Witch," he groaned. "’Tis well I'm a saved man or I might murder 'ee. Hark! hark! Murder 'ee, you Jezebel! I do know now what Jehu did feel when he cried, 'Throw her down and call up they dogs and tear the whore to pieces.'"
He ran from the room, raving.
After this new fit when the wolf drove out the fox, Trewhella settled down to steady cunning. Jenny became conscious of being watched more closely. Not even the orchard was safe. There was no tree trunk that might not conceal a wormlike form, no white mound of sand that was not alive with curiosity, no wind even that was not fraught with whispered commentaries upon her simplest actions.