"Here, Caliban, go and fasten his padlock. I ought never to have thought of it. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. You may fall into the hands of your enemy. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Diane Vorsack was a disaster waiting for a place to happen, with a heartily established dislike for the Beck clan. But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London.
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