I made the pies. ‘Would that your mistress were as trusting. The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself. ‘We mean you no harm,’ he said reassuringly. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. But what did he know beyond these facts? Nothing, clearly. Her education was remarkable in that it was overdeveloped here and underdeveloped there: the woman of thirty and the child of ten were always getting in each other's way. It is not at all comme il faut.
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