Kneeling before the table by her window, she wrote her foolish message and slipped it inside her dress: then, with a satisfaction which brought peace, she lay down again and slept.
She waked to find Helen at her bedside, a cup of tea in her hand.
"Oh—I've been to sleep?"
"Yes. It's four o'clock. Are you better?"
"Yes."
"Lily is here. John's gone to town. It's market-day."
"Market-day!" She laughed. "George will get drunk. Perhaps he'll fall off his horse and be killed. But I'd rather he was killed tomorrow. Perhaps a wild bull will gore him—right horn, left horn, right horn—Oh, my head aches!"
"Don't waggle it about."
"I was just showing you what the bull would do to George."
"Leave the poor man alone."