"It's hurting me fearfully, and there's something awful wrong about it. They want me away from here—Mrs. Bamsey and Jane—that's natural too. Though why I'm confiding in you I don't know. Something have drove me to do it. But I know you'll be faithful."
"I wish I could help you, miss. I can only say what I think."
"You have helped me I reckon. You've helped me a lot. I was half in a mind to go and see Enoch Withycombe; but he's old, and the young turn to the young, don't they?"
"I suppose they do; though I dare say the old know best, along of experience."
"The old forget a lot. They always begin by telling you they remember what it was to be young themselves; but they don't. They can't. Their blood runs slower; they're colder. They've changed through and through since they were young. They can't remember some things."
"I dare say they can't."
"Will you come for a walk with me one day and show me that stone you was telling about—the face?"
"You remember that?"
"Yes; you was going to say more about it the last Sunday you was here; then you shut up rather sudden."
The idea of a walk with Dinah had certainly never entered Maynard's head. He remained silent.