"I must get back-along now," she said at length. "How goes on Mrs. Crocker? Better, I hope?"
He shook his head but did not reply.
"I shall come to see her again next week, if I may."
"Do, and welcome, Madge. Strange how illness breaks down the pride and shows the naked truth of a man or woman. She's frightened to think of dying--her that you might have said was frightened of nothing."
"And still frightened of nothing really. 'Tisn't this world that frights her, nor yet the next--only the link snapping between. There's a lot like that."
He changed the subject again and followed her eyes that had roamed across the valley once more.
"You're looking at Screech's house," he said. "I hope this thing they tell about isn't true?"
"I hope not, Bartley, but I think it is."
"And if it is? However, it don't become a giddy bachelor to make light of it. Only you'll hear such a devil of a lot on the other side, that perhaps before long you'll be thankful to find one here and there who can keep his nerve about it."
"Yes, I shall hear enough about it--and to spare: you're right there."