'That were a queer creature,' observed Nanspian, taking the pipe from his mouth, and blowing a long puff. 'That was the queerest thing of all, her burying herself, when she felt she was dying, in old Wellon's grave.'
'It was not his grave. It was a grave of the old ancient Britons.'
'Well, it don't matter exactly whose the grave was. Mrs. Veale seemed mighty set on making it her own.' He continued puffing, looking before him. 'I'm not sure you acted right about her,' he said after a while. 'I suppose you didn't really suppose there was any poison in the broth.'
'I'm a just man,' said Langford, 'To do as you were to be done by is my maxim. And—it's Gospel.'
'But you didn't think it would kill her?'
'I don't know what I thought. I wasn't sure.'
Another pause.
'Swaddledown ain't coming to the hammer after all,' said Nanspian.
'No, I'm glad the Voadens remain on.'
'Ah! and Sam is a good lad. I reckon before Michaelmas he and Kate will make a pair. They'd have done that afore if it had been settled whether Swaddledown would be sold, and they have to leave.'