She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. "Will he post the cole? Will he come down with the dues? Ask him that?" cried Blueskin.
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