‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. The farmer had become obsessed with her and asked her to marry. "Is this her work?" "It is," answered Thames. “Is that plain?” she asked. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. "It's Mrs.
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