'He is at home at present, I suppose? Perhaps he is better now?'
'No, he is no better. He is as much afraid of things as ever.'
'Does he still behave like a peasant? Does he never go into the rooms?'
'We cannot get him to go into the rooms; he is afraid of her ladyship, as the honoured mistress knows.'
'He has his meals in the kitchen, and sleeps in the men-servants' room?'
'Yes, he does.'
'And you have no idea how to cure him?'
'We know nothing, we understand nothing.'
Mistress Sorrow was silent for a moment; when she spoke again there was a hard, sharp ring in her voice: