Only at the extreme end of the chasm where she had mounted was it possible to climb to the top, and it was obvious that the rent was gradually but surely prolonging itself. CHAPTER XI A PROPOSAL Jane Marley was at the kneading trough, with her sleeves tucked up, and her hands in the dough, when a shadow thrown upon her made her look up, and she saw Olver Dench at the window. He nodded to her through the window, came to the door, opened and entered without ceremony. 'How do you find yourself this morning, mistress?' asked the ferryman, seating himself. Jane made a gesture indicative of impatience. 'The captain is out,' she answered curtly. 'I have not come to see the captain.' 'The house is not a show-place like Colyton Castle.' 'I have not come to see it.' 'Then you have no business here.' 'That is an uncivil address to an old friend.' 'I do not recognise any friend.' This silenced him for a while. He observed her, with her sleeves rolled above her elbows, her fine moulded arms, her handsome, if somewhat stern, face, the full lips, the fine sweep of the jaw, the copious, dark hair with warm glints in it, the ripe complexion, and he thought what a good-looking woman she was. She continued to knead the dough, in total disregard of his presence, and the sun entering through the latticed window played over her arms, the dimpled, rosy elbows her swelling bosom, over which the breast-piece of her white apron was pinned at the shoulders, and it flamed occasionally on her pouting lips. Then, after a considerable pause, Olver Dench began once more. 'I have come here, Jane, not on the captain's affairs, but on yours.' 'Mine, you will favour me not to trouble about.' 'When I say yours, I really mean those of your child.' At once she was interested. He saw that. Her arm remained stationary for a moment, the hands plunged in the dough. Then she resumed work with increased energy. She tossed her head and said, 'My child is under my care, and her affairs in no way demand your meddling.'