“No—her, that she had to dwell with him. She’ll have fairer company after Saturday.”
“Is it Saturday, Jack?”
“Ay, Mall. Would you be there? I shall.”
“No,” said Mary, in a low tone. “I couldn’t keep back my tears, and maybe they’d hurt her. She’ll lack all her brave heart, and I’ll not trouble her in that hour.”
“You’d best not let Master Hall know—neither Mr Roger, nor Mr Thomas. It’d nigh kill poor little Mistress Christie to know of it aforehand. She loved her Aunt Alice so dearly.”
“I can hold my tongue, Jack. Easier, maybe, than I can keep my hands off that wretch in yonder!”
When Mary went in to lay the cloth for the last meal, she found the wretch in question still seated at the table, his head buried in his hands. A gruffer voice than ever bade her “Let be! Keep away!” Mary withdrew quietly, and found it a shade easier to keep her hands off Mr Benden after that incident.