"Who is she?" asked her daughter, with the vehemence of an aching question, as she entered the kitchen.
Mrs. Lee closed the passage door and looked at her steadily and said, "She's Denzil Carron's wife." And the younger woman sprang to her feet with blazing face and the clatter of a falling chair.
"Denzil's wife! I am Denzil Carron's wife."
"So's she. And I reckon she's the one they'll call his wife," said her mother dourly.
"I'll go to her. I'll tell her----" And she sprang to the door.
"Nay, you wun't," said her mother, leaning back against it. "T' blame's not hers, an' hoo's low enough already."
"And where is he? Where is Denzil?"
"He's in trouble of some kind, but what it is I dunnot know. Sir Denzil's gone back to get him out of it, and he brought her here to be out of it too."
"And he'll come here?"
"Mebbe. Sir Denzil didna say. He said he'd hold me responsible for her. She's near her time, poor thing! An' I doubt if she comes through it."