Then the baby began to howl because it was hungry. Rose had nursed it herself, and its wants had not occurred to the unhappy Caro or her father. There was delay and confusion while a bottle was fetched and milk prepared, and then--to crown all--cow's milk upset it, and it was sick. But Reuben escaped this final tragedy--he had left the room after a few mouthfuls, and gone to Handshut's cottage. He could not restrain himself any longer. He must see Rose, and vent on her all the miserable rage with which his heart was seething. He longed to strike her--he longed to beat her, for the wanton that she was. And he longed to clasp her in his arms and weep on her breast and caress her, for the woman that she was. But the cottage was shut. With its red-rotting roof between two tall chimneys it looked exactly like a rabbit's head between its ears; the windows were blind, though it was past seven o'clock, and though Reuben knocked at the door loudly, there was no one to be seen. He prowled once or twice round the house, fumbling handles and window-latches, but there was no way of getting in. He listened, but he could not hear a sound. He pictured Rose and Handshut in each other's arms, laughing at him in his wretchedness and their bliss--and all the time he wanted the woman's blood more than the man's. At last he wandered desperately away, treading the furrows of his new ground on Boarzell, reckless that he trod the young seed harrowed into them. In that black moment even his winter crops were nothing to him. He saw, thought of, realised only one thing--and that was Rose, the false, the gay, the wanton, and the beautiful--oh the beautiful!--laughing at him from another man's arms. He could see her laughing, see just how her lips parted, just how her teeth shone--those little teeth, so regular except for the pointed canines--just how the dimples came at the corners of her mouth, those dear little hollows which he had dug with his kisses.... He ground his heel into the soft harrowed earth, and it cast up its smell into his nostrils unheeded. But the day of Boarzell was coming--its rival had been cleared out of the field, and the great hump with its knob of firs seemed to be lying in wait, till the man had pulled himself out of the pit of a false woman's love and given himself back to it, the strong, the faithful enemy. About an hour later Reuben was down again at Handshut's cottage, but this time a change had worked itself. The door hung wide open--and the place was empty. He went through the two miserable little rooms, but there was no one, and nowhere for anybody to hide. The remains of a meal of bread and tea were on the table, and a fire of sticks was dying on the hearth. The lovers had flown--to laugh at him from a safe distance.