She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. "I say we, because Miss Rachel and I have struck up a match. Diable. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him.
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