An' no garden, an' no chance o' decent ways nohow.

An' if yer ask for a bit o' repairs yer get sworn at.

An' that's all that most on us can get out of Squire Boyce!" There was a hasty whisper among some of the men round him, as they glanced over their shoulders at the two ladies on the back bench.

One or two of them half rose, and tried to pull him down.

Wharton looked at Marcella; it seemed to him he saw a sort of passionate satisfaction on her pale face, and in the erect carriage of her head.