What was there to make a work about?
She could take care of herself, she supposed! There was no harm in seeing the laird.

It was the best thing that could happen.

She would mark a proper distance to him once and for all.

Gradually the wheels of her nature ceased to go round so madly, and she sat in passive expectation, a quiet, solitary figure in the midst of the grey moss.

I have said she was no hypocrite, but here I am at fault.