"No, no; of course you don't. Only it shows what kind of woman—"
"Don't speak of her, I say! She's a fool!—And she's an angel, too, poor dear!"
"If it's done, he'll have a chance of getting back to his old position, by everybody's account, so Anny says. All his well-wishers will be pleased, including the bishop himself."
"Do spare me, Arabella."
Arabella was duly installed in the little attic, and at first she did not come near Jude at all. She went to and fro, about her own business, which, when they met for a moment on the stairs or in the passage, she informed him was that of obtaining another place in the occupation she understood best. When Jude suggested London as affording the most likely opening in the liquor-trade, she shook her head. "No—the temptations are too many," she said. "Any humble tavern in the country before that for me."
On the Sunday morning following, when he breakfasted later than on other days, she meekly asked him if she might come in to breakfast with him, as she had broken her teapot, and could not replace it immediately, the shops being shut.
"Yes, if you like," he said, indifferently.
While they sat without speaking she suddenly observed: "You seem all in a brood, old man. I'm sorry for you."
"I am all in a brood."
"It is about her, I know. It's no business of mine, but I could find out all about the wedding—if it really did take place—if you wanted to know."
"How could you?"
"I wanted to go to Alfredston to get a few things I left there, and I could see Anny, who'll be sure to have heard all about it, as she has friends at Marygreen."
Jude could not bear to acquiesce in this proposal; but his suspense pitted itself against his discretion, and won
