"Most of 'em know him."
"What do they say about him?"
Brendon hesitated.
"Can't answer that: wouldn't be fair to the man."
"You have answered it!" she said, and laughed.
A moment later he took his leave and strode slowly over the hills. So absorbed was he, that he did not watch his way, and presently tripped and fell. The accident cleared his mind.
"This be a new thing in me," he thought. "That blessed, lovely she's bewitched me, if I know myself! She'll take the man, no doubt. And yet—why? Such a face as that might look as high as a farmer at the lowest."
CHAPTER VII
PLAIN SPEAKING
A peace of unusual duration brooded over the dwelling of Philip Weekes; for his wife had gone to market on Saturday morning, but instead of returning home, according to her custom, in time for Sunday dinner at Lydford, she continued at Plymouth until the evening.