Sarah Jane laughed.
"'Tis a free country—as far as thoughts be the matter."
"That's him again. I heard him say the only sort of freedom we could have was freedom of thought. But unbelievers shouldn't have that if I could help it."
She looked at him with love rather than respect.
"You'm deep but not wide in your way of thinking. I mind once last autumn coming to you and marking as you'd been trampling in the whortleberries. Your boots was all red and purple, and it looked for all the world as if you might have been stamping somebody to death."
"What things you say!"
"All the same now, be honest, Daniel—couldn't you do it? Can't you feel that things might happen so bad that you'd even kill a person? There's death in your eyes sometimes, when you talk of evildoers, and them that are cruel to children, and suchlike."
"'Tisn't a wifely thing to remind me I've got a temper. You've never had to regret it, anyway."
"How do you know that? But 'tis true: I never have. You're a deal too soft with me, bless your big heart. I can't do wrong in your eyes; and yet, sometimes, I wonder how you'd take it if I did do wrong—such wrong as there could be no doubt about. There's some things you'd kill me for, I do believe."
"You'm talking to a Christian man; but you don't seem to know it."