"Can't you see them some other time?"
The limpid air softened his heart; he thought for a moment that if he could wander aimlessly with Mary, gossiping without purpose, they might end by understanding one another. The sun, the wild flowers, the inconstant breeze, might help to create a new feeling.
But Mary turned to him with grave tenderness.
"You know I'd do anything to please you, Jamie. But even for you I cannot neglect my duty."
James froze.
"Of course, you're quite right," he said. "It really doesn't matter."
They came to another cottage, and this time Mary took James in.
"It's a poor old man," she said. "I'm so sorry for him; he's always so grateful for what I do."
They found him lying in bed, writhing with pain, his head supported by a pillow.
"Oh, how uncomfortable you look!" cried Mary. "You poor thing! Who on earth arranged your pillows like that?"