"It's all for the best, anyway," said Clara. "Let's have supper."
The wind had lessened; it came no longer with bursts of anger, but, as though craving pardon for its fury, it wailed and moaned about the house. For once Clara forgot her optimism.
"I cannot bear the wind like this," she said, when the meal was done, the dishes washed, and they sat by the fire again. She had laid aside her work and sat in a low chair, clasping and unclasping her hands. They were large, firm hands, and Edward Webb guessed that when they were not busy they were generally still. "It's like people who can't find their way."
"Janet says it's sins coming back on us."
"Janet's full of tales."
"She is that," said Alexander with satisfaction.
"Alec, let's have the door shut. I feel as if something will get through before we know it."
"That's worse than Janet," he said, as he kicked away the large stone which had held back the door.
At ten o'clock he was bidden to bed.
"I'll go if you do."