"I'm sorry for you, Sabina—sorrier than I am for myself. This is cruel.
I didn't know, or dream, that time had stood still for you like this."
"Time ended for me—then."
"For me it had to go on. I must think about this. I didn't guess it was like this with you. Don't think I want you away; don't think you're the only thorn in my pillow and that I'm not used to pain and anxiety, or impatient of all the implicit meaning of your lonely life. Stop, if you want to stop. I'll see you again, Sabina, please. Now I'll be gone."
When he had mounted his horse and ridden away without more words from her, Abel, who had been lurking along on the other side of the hedge, crept through it and rejoined his mother.
They walked on in silence for some time. Then the child spoke.
"Fancy your talking to Mister Ironsyde, mother!"
"He talked to me."
"I lay you dressed him down then?"
"I told him the truth, Abel. He wants everything for nothing, Mister
Ironsyde does. He wants you—for nothing."
"He's a beast, and I hate him, and he'll know I hate him some day."