"
He turned round and went, and the rest o' the neighbours went; and
here be I left to the reproach o't.'
'He was too hasty,' murmured Margery. 'For now he's said this I
can't marry him to-morrow, as I might ha' done; and perhaps so much
the better.'
'You can be so calm about it, can ye? Be my arrangements nothing,
then, that you should break 'em up, and say off hand what wasn't done
to-day might ha' been done to-morrow, and such flick-flack? Out o'
my sight! I won't hear any more. I won't speak to 'ee any more.'
'I'll go away, and then you'll be sorry!'
'Very well, go. Sorry--not I.'
He turned and stamped his way into the cheese-room. Margery went
upstairs. She too was excited now, and instead of fortifying herself
in her bedroom till her father's rage had blown over, as she had
often done on lesser occasions, she packed up a bundle of articles,
crept down again, and went out of the house. She had a place of
refuge in these cases of necessity, and her father knew it, and was
less alarmed at seeing her depart than he might otherwise have been.
This place was Rook's Gate, the house of her grandmother, who always
took Margery's part when that young woman was particularly in the
wrong.
The devious way she pursued, to avoid the vicinity of Mount Lodge,
was tedious, and she was already weary.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93