Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. It was not possible for him to have been deceived. She was already a little prepared by her discursive reading and discussion under the Widgett influence for ideas and “movements,” though temperamentally perhaps she was rather disposed to resist and criticise than embrace them. She felt that there was a hidden meaning under his words. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly.
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