" She moved off in the direction
indicated; and--as he felt she expected, demanded--he followed slightly
behind.
A short, steep terrace descended to a formally planted plot, now
flowerless, enclosed by low privet hedges. There were walks of rolled
bark, and, against a lower, denser barrier, a long, white bench. The
ground still fell away beyond; and there was a sturdy orchard, cleared
of underbrush, with crimson apples among the grey limbs. Beyond, across
a low, tangled wild, an amphitheatre of hills rose against the sky,
drawn from the extreme right about the facade of the dwelling. They
seemed to enclose Myrtle Forge in a natural domain of its own; and,
actually, Gilbert Penny owned most of the acreage within that immediate
circle.
Mrs. Winscombe sank on the garden bench, where she sat with a hand
resting on either side of her. Above them a column of smoke rose from
the kitchen against the blue. A second, heavier cloud rolled up from the
Forge below. "They have been repairing the forebay," Howat explained;
"the Forge has been closed. I'm supposed to be in the counting house."
"You work?" she demanded surprised.
"At the ledger, put things down--what the men are paid, mostly in
tobacco and shoes, ozenbrigs and molasses and rum; or garters and
handkerchiefs for the women.
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