Whatever does it matter?"
And Mrs. Wilkins said she was going down to the village to find
out where the post-office was and post her letter to Mellersh, and
would Rose go too.
"I've been thinking about Mellersh," said Mrs. Wilkins as they
walked, one behind the other, down the narrow zigzag path up which they
had climbed in the rain the night before.
She went first. Mrs. Arbuthnot, quite naturally now, followed.
In England it had been the other way about--Lotty, timid, hesitating,
except when she burst out so awkwardly, getting behind the calm and
reasonable Rose whenever she could.
"I've been thinking about Mellersh," repeated Mrs. Wilkins over
her shoulder, as Rose seemed not to have heard.
"Have you?" said Rose, a faint distaste in her voice, for her
experiences with Mellersh had not been of a kind to make her enjoy
remembering him. She had deceived Mellersh; therefore she didn't like
him. She was unconscious that this was the reason of her dislike, and
thought it was that there didn't seem to be much, if any, of the grace
of god about him. And yet how wrong to feel that, she rebuked herself,
and how presumptuous. No doubt Lotty's husband was far, far nearer to
God than she herself was ever likely to be. Still, she didn't like
him.
"I've been a mean dog," said Mrs.
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