Her own plans began to be very doubtful now, and choice lay before her of returning to her father or continuing to live with David. Her love had made light even of Tavistock; but, in a town, Rhoda’s occupation would be gone: at such a place she must cease to justify existence. Her greatest sorrow was reached at thought of living away from David; and a second emotion, only less disturbing, made decision doubly difficult. The apparent complications and secrets of her sister-in-law’s life had first alarmed Rhoda, and now they angered her. She read the facts in the light of her own wisdom, and her wisdom led her wide of the mark. She believed that Crocker was using alleged love of her as a pretence and excuse for very different affection. Some such dim thought had long haunted her, and it remained for Dorcas and her brutal speeches to convince Rhoda that she did Margaret no wrong by the suspicion. In sober truth Rhoda had felt shame upon herself when first the fear arose; but then came her hidden watches, the spectacle of familiar meetings and the vigorous word of Mrs. Screech. She knew that Dorcas loved Madge and had not spoken to injure David’s wife. Her sister, indeed, evidently approved; and the circumstance convinced Rhoda that her opinion of Dorcas was correct. And now, upon restless loneliness, came Crocker knowing that he would find her alone. He sneered at himself for a fool as he knocked at the door of ’Meavy Cot’; but he had sworn to ask her thrice and would not go from his word, though the vanity of troubling her a third time was very clear to him. After noon on a late autumn day did Bartley call, and Rhoda, not guessing who it was that knocked, but thinking it to be one of her brothers, who was due from Ditsworthy, cried out, "Come in!" She was eating her dinner of a baked potato, bread, cold mutton, and a glass of water; and she leapt up as Mr. Crocker appeared. "Go on," he said. "Please go on--or I’ll walk about outside till you’ve finished, if you’d rather I did." "I thought ’twas my brother," she said. "I’ve done my food. David’s not at home, if you want him." "I know," he answered. "I’ve come to see the only one who was at home; and that’s yourself." She stood by the table. Her mind moved swiftly. She sought to find some advantage in this meeting; but she could not think what to say. David was her sole thought, and how best to serve him she knew not. "It’s a long time since I had a chance to speak to you," said the visitor, "and I’m afraid, from your looks, you wouldn’t have given me the chance even now if you hadn’t been caught and cornered. But there’s no need for you to grudge ten minutes of talk. ’Twill be the last time--unless there’s a glimmer of another sort of feeling in you." Her way of escape seemed to lie through this man’s departure alone. She hated every tone of his voice and wished that he was dead.