He shook his head. 'Paul Charteris has stopped work.'
'Is that all?' said Wych Hazel. 'The wonder to me is that such men ever go on.'
'He has not failed. He has stopped work. That is enough, of you knew what it means.'
'Not that all his men are turned adrift?'
'Just that. Three or four hundred families.'
'But they cannot move off and find work in the dead of winter!
What is the man thinking of?'
'Only, I suppose, of what are called the exigencies of business. There is not a good market, just now, for his cloths; he would be largely out of pocket presently if he went on paying out, with nothing coming in.'
'Could he do it?'
'I cannot tell.'
She bent thoughtfully over her flowers for a minute, touching them here and there; then looked up again.