“Yes,” Mr. Cuthcott murmured, “who would think a gosling would ever become a goose?”
“Ah!” said Nedda eagerly, “isn't it wonderful how things grow?”
She felt his eyes suddenly catch hold of hers.
“You're in love!” he said.
It seemed to her a great piece of luck that he had found that out. It made everything easy at once, and her words came out pell-mell.
“Yes, and I haven't told my people yet. I don't seem able. He's given me something to do, and I haven't much experience.”
A funny little wriggle passed over Mr. Cuthcott's face. “Yes, yes; go on! Tell us about it.”
She took a sip from her glass, and the feeling that he had been going to laugh passed away.
“It's about the daughter of a laborer, down there in Worcestershire, where he lives, not very far from Becket. He's my cousin, Derek, the son of my other uncle at Joyfields. He and his sister feel most awfully strongly about the laborers.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Cuthcott, “the laborers! Queer how they're in the air, all of a sudden.”