“I wonder if they’ll marry.”
“Most probable. She has a lot of money.”
Two days after a cab stood in the yard in front of the kitchen window. Peggy’s luggage was being piled upon it—two large, handsome basket boxes with the initials painted on them. Kneeling on the box-seat, the coachman leaned over the roof making room for another—a small box covered with red cowhide and tied with a rough rope. The little box in its poor simplicity brought William back to Esther, whelming her for a moment in so acute a sense of her loss that she had to leave the kitchen. She went into the scullery, drew the door after her, sat down, and hid her face in her apron. A stifled sob or two, and then she recovered her habitual gravity of expression, and continued her work as if nothing had happened.
XII
“They
