"My cough be cruel bad got, and I can't hardly see. If I can't mak' a living what be I to du?" asked Brightly.
This was much too difficult a question for Thomasine, and she did not attempt to answer it.
"B'est hungry?" she asked.
"I've ha' been hungry for years and years, 'cept when I was in prison, and then I was hungry for air," said Brightly.
"Got any money?"
"Duppence."
"I ain't got nothing," she said.
"Shall us get on?" said the restless little man. He felt business calling him, though he could do nothing with his empty basket.
They went back the way they had come, through Brentor village, and towards Lydford, Brightly walking on one side of the road and Thomasine upon the other. The only remark the girl made was: "This bain't the way to Plymouth;" and Brightly replied: "It bain't the place for yew." He had some knowledge of the world, and knew that it could not be well for a girl without home or friends or character to walk about the streets of a big town.
They stopped at Lydford, and Thomasine went to a cottage where people dwelt whom she had known in the days of respectability, and they gave her food which she brought out and shared with her companion. They went to the foot of the cascade in the gorge and ate their meal to the subdued murmur of the long white veil of water sliding down the face of the precipice. They were alone in the gorge, where the Gubbingses had once dwelt, as the place is deserted during the early months of the year.