It all looked very simple and easy of execution as she ran a mental eye over it when completed—all light and no shade, like an architect’s ground-plan; and she put it aside and began upon the details with the satisfaction of a resolute woman who has no doubt of her ability to get her own way.
The first thing was to see Jagger and unfold the scheme, but she could scarcely go down to the cottage and spread it out in the presence of Maniwel and Hannah. No girl, however unconventional and business-like would propose marriage to the most willing of lovers in the presence of witnesses. She would contrive a meeting on the morrow, and make her peace with Jagger, admitting that she had been too precipitate, and wheedling him into a similar admission, after which she would have a straight talk with Baldwin and lay down her terms.
A noise in the workshop, which was on the same level as her room and divided from it only by a thick wall, ceased at this moment and the cessation of sound made her conscious for the first time that it had existed. She knew that Inman was leaving work, for nobody but Baldwin and he put in any overtime, and it brought a smile to her face to realise how completely she had forgotten him. A moment later she heard his voice in the street below.
“Going home, are you? It’s a lonely road in the dark. I’ll step along with you, part way.”
“Lord! I aren’t afraid o’ the dark, Mr. Inman,” a voice that Nancy recognised as belonging to Swithin’s granddaughter replied with a giggle.
“What if bargest snaps at you, Polly?” he suggested. “There’s no moon, and he may be on the moor.”
“How you talk!” she replied, but the voice was fainter, and Nancy knew they were walking away together; and she turned with a smile on her lips and began to undress.
“All the better!” she muttered. “James Inman doesn’t come into the play.”
When she got into bed she was quite composed, even though the painful throbbing of her head for some time drove sleep away. She was very much in love with herself and her scheme, and physical discomfort counted for little. When at length she lost consciousness, though the wind rose and blew through the open window with such force as to disorder the room, she slept soundly until morning.
Meantime in the cottage by the stream, Maniwel and Jagger had also been busy with their plans. The father’s description of his encounter with Baldwin had roused the son’s wrath.