‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. Indeed, it is rather a matter of whose death is close. Suspending his labour on Jack's appearance, the man demanded his business.
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