The ribes scented everything. Mary drew the nosegay from the bundle; she liked to keep it in her hand, for the touch and smell of something familiar was necessary to her as she stepped along towards her new world. After the solitary position of the Dipping-Pool, and her seclusion at the toll-house, Llangarth seemed nothing short of a metropolis.
“I’ll be coming into market, time an’ again,” began Williams, after a few minutes. “Would I see you, do you think? I have to go into the town for Mrs. Walters sometimes.”
He spoke without a trace of anxiety, but he had been longing and fearing to ask the question.
“For Mrs. Walters?”
“Yes,” replied he, fixing his eyes on the road about a hundred yards ahead. “I’m working for her now at Great Masterhouse.”
Mary bit her lip. The news surprised her, and the sound of Rhys’ name affected her as the word “gallows” might affect a reprieved man.
“Of a Sunday,” urged George, “I could step down to Llangarth and get a sight of you.”
She was silent.
“But, perhaps you wouldn’t like it. I wish you wasn’t so set against me.”
“I’m not set against you.”