'You've seen how brave she is, sir. She has things to bear. Never cries, never frets. Her marriage day--leastways . . . I can't, no girl can tell. A great nobleman, yes. She waited, believing in him; she does. She hasn't spoken to me of what she's had to bear. I don't know; I guess; I'm sure I'm right--and him a man! Girls learn to know men, call them gentlemen or sweeps. She thinks she has only to meet him to persuade him she 's fit to be loved by him. She thinks of love. Would he--our tongues are tied except among ourselves to a sister. Leaves her by herself, with only me, after--it knocks me dumb! Many a man commits a murder wouldn't do that. She could force him to--no, it isn't a house she wants, she wants him. He's her husband, Mr. Woodseer. You will do what you can to help; I judge by your father. I and Sarah 'll slave for her to be as comfortable--as we--can make her; we can't give her what she 's used to. I shall count the hours.' 'You sold me apples when your head was just above the counter,' said Gower. 'Did I?--you won't lose time, sir?' she rejoined. 'Her box is down at the beastly inn in Kent. Kind people, I dare say; their bill was paid any extent, they said. And he might do as he liked in it--enter it like a thief, if it pleased him, and off like one, and they no wiser. She walked to his big house Esslemont for news of him. And I'm not a snivelling wench either; but she speaks of him a way to make a girl drink her tears, if they ain't to be let fall.' 'But you had a victory down there,' Gower hinted congratulations. 'Ah,' said she. 'Christopher Ines is all right now?' 'I've as good as lost my good name for Kit Ines, Mr. Woodseer.' 'Not with my dad, Madge.' 'The minister reads us at the heart. Shall we hear the street of his house in London before night?' 'I may be late.' 'I'll be up, any hour, for a rap at the shutters. I want to take her to the house early next morning. She won't mind the distance. She lies in bed, her eyes shut or open, never sleeping, hears any mouse. It shouldn't go on, if we can do a thing to help.' 'I'm off,' said Gower, unwontedly vexed at his empty pocket, that could not offer the means for conveyance to a couple of young women. The dark-browed girl sent her straight eyes at him. They pushed him to hasten. On second thoughts, he stopped and hailed her; he was moved to confirm an impression of this girl's features. His mind was directed to the business burning behind them, honestly enough, as soon as he had them in sight again. 'I ought to have the address of some of her people, in case,' he said. 'She won't go to her uncle, I 'm sure of that,' said Madge. 'He 's a lord and can't be worried. It 's her husband to find first.' 'If he's to be found!--he's a lord, too. Has she no other relatives or friends?'