“In anger?”
“He's gone; I don't care whether he's gone in anger or not.”
“Did he tell you he saw me?”
“Yes.”
“And did you promise him not to tell on him? To Jane? To any one?”
“No.” Gillespie stood holding a bucket of milk in his hand; she sat gathering her shawl under her chin as if she were still coming through the suncleft shadows of the woods pasture.
“Oh, David!”
“What do you want me to do, Nancy?”
“I don't know, I don't know. I haven't slept all night.”
“You mustn't give way like this. Don't you see any duty for you in this matter?”