"Then I suppose I must go!" said Arabella. She bent her head against the door-post, and began sobbing.
"The house is full," said Jude, "and I have only a little extra room—not much more than a closet—where I keep my tools and templates and the few books I have left!"
"That would be a palace for me!"
"There is no bedstead in it."
"A bit of a bed could be made on the floor. It would be good enough for me."
Unable to be harsh with her, and not knowing what to do, Jude called the man who let the lodgings, and said this was an acquaintance of his in great distress for want of temporary shelter.
"You may remember me as barmaid at The Lamb and Flag formerly?" spoke up Arabella. "My father has insulted me this afternoon, and I've left him, though without a penny."
The householder said he could not recall her features. "But still, if you are a friend of Mr. Fawley's, we'll do what we can for a day or two—if he'll make himself answerable."
"Yes, yes," said Jude. "She has really taken me quite unawares, but I should wish to help her out of her difficulty." And an arrangement was ultimately come to under which a bed was to be thrown down in Jude's lumber-room, to make it comfortable for Arabella till she could get out of the strait she was in—not by her own fault, as she declared—and return to her father's again.
While they were waiting for this to be done, Arabella said: "You know the news, I suppose?"
"I guess what you mean, but I know nothing."
"I had a letter from Anny at Alfredston to-day. She had just heard that the wedding was to be yesterday, but she didn't know if it had come off."
"I don't wish to talk of it."
