women it was ever my lot to see. She demanded our business, and was obviously divided between resentment at our good intentions and a determination to keep whatever Marcelle had brought her without saying "thank you," or asking us into the cottage.
"You can put down the hamper," was her most cordial observation. Her only human inclination was to describe the very painful disease from which she was suffering, and the appalling treatment which she had given herself. After this she abruptly inquired how long we should be staying, and I with difficulty persuaded the discouraged Marcelle to retire.
"And I am to leave my good things, my meat pie, my very best cognac, and not even have a thank you? Non, c'est trop fort, je ne veux pas, I will not; I will have the things back."
"You had better not try," said George. "I heard her bolt the door the moment we turned away. Besides, what's the matter? she was starving, and you have fed her. Wasn't that your object?"
"I don't believe she is starving a bit," said Marcelle, white with anger; "she looks quite fat, quite covered; what a horrid, odious, diseased woman! It was absurd to come, un procédé tout-à-fait ridicule."
Then seeing that we were laughing she abruptly recovered her temper, and laughed too, and said we were "très gentils" and "très bons" to take it like that.
It was a glorious evening full of light and air as we came back over the moors. There was such lightness of breathing, such full peace in seeing, as I have only known in a few days in my life. Marcelle became very quiet, our laughter had died down, but the merriment of it underlay our growing restfulness of spirit. Marcelle took her turn on the donkey, and I strode on with an energy I had not known for many a long day, "stepping westwards" towards the setting
