“That’s just where this man is,” she answered curtly.
“Where?”
“Nowhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s cut his lucky. He’s gone to Carlisle to see his brother and keep his skin safe—for a week. He’s like a good many more I know,” with a glance which embraced every man in the room: “willing to eat but afraid to bite.”
“But he has left his house?”
“That’s it.”
“And who’s in it?”
“His wife, no one else. And she’s bedridden with a babby, seven days old.”
“What! And no woman with her?”