"Ben, don't drive me away. I've been true to you, indeed I have, and Handshut's going to-morrow. Let me in--please let me in. I swear I've been true." "I want none o' your lying swears--at one o'clock o' the marnun. Go back to the man you've come from--he'll believe you easier nor I." "Ben, I'm your wife." "I tell you, you're no wife of mine. I'm shut of you--you false, fair, lying, scarlet woman. You needn't cry and weep, nuther--none 'ull say as Ben Backfield wur a soft man fur woman's tears." He shut the window with a slam. For some moments Rose stood leaning against the wall, her sobs shaking her. Then, still sobbing, she turned and walked away. She walked slowly down the drive till she came to the little path that led across the fields to Handshut's cottage. A light gleamed from the window, and she crept towards it through tall moon-smudged grass--while from the distance came for the last time: "Soles, plaice, and dabs, Rate, skate, and crabs. God save the Queen!" § 22. A glassy yellow broke into the sky like a curse. It shone on Reuben's eyes, and he opened them. They were pink and puffed round the rims, and the whites were shot with little blood-vessels. His cheeks were yellow, and round his mouth was an odd greyish tinge. He had lain dressed on his bed, and was surprised to find that he had slept. But the sleep had brought no refreshment--there was a bad taste in his mouth, and his tongue felt rough and thick. He sat up on the tumbled bed and looked round him. Rose's nightgown was folded on her pillow, and over a chair lay a pair of the thin useless stockings he had often scolded her for wearing. A drawer was open, and from it came the soft perfume that adhered to everything she put on. He suddenly sprang out of bed and shut it with a kick. "Durn her!" he said, and then two sobs tore their way painfully up his throat, shaking his whole body. An hour later he went down. He had washed and tidied himself, none the less he disconcerted the household. Caro had lain awake all night, partly from misery, partly because of the baby, which she had been obliged to take charge of in the mother's absence. She had brought it down into the kitchen with her, and it had lain kicking in its cradle while she prepared the breakfast. She was worn out already after her sleepless night, and could not prevent the tears from trickling down her face as she cut bread for the meal. "Stop that!" said Reuben roughly. Except for this, he did not speak--nor after a few attempts on the former's part did Pete and Caro. They sat and gulped down their food in silence. Even Harry seemed to realise the general unrest. He would not sit at table, but wandered aimlessly up and down the room, murmuring, as was now his habit in times of domestic upheaval, "Another wedding--deary me! We're always having weddings in this house."