He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. I am bothered. The low ceiling made him seem abnormally tall. It is my business to know most people. Of course, if at any time—see reason—alter your opinion. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. The likeness was ridiculous. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. ‘Speak, then.
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