"Frightened for the first time in my life," he thought--"and that by an old woman! It's time I went into training again, when things have come to this!" He looked at his watch.

It was close on the luncheon hour up at the house; and he had not decided yet what to do about his letter to Anne.
He resolved to decide, then and there.
The woman--the dumb woman, with the stony face and the horrid eyes--reappeared in his thoughts, and got in the way of his decision.
Pooh! some crazed old servant, who might once have been cook; who was kept out of charity now.

Nothing more important than that.

No more of her! no more of her! He laid himself down on the grass, and gave his mind to the serious question.

How to address Anne as "Mrs.Arnold Brinkworth ?" and how to make sure of her receiving the letter?
The dumb old woman got in his way again.
He closed his eyes impatiently, and tried to shut her out in a darkness of his own making.
The woman showed herself through the darkness.