both men looked up because much of their light was withdrawn.

"You'd not have dared to speak to me like this while father was alive."

As a matter of fact the accusation was not true. The father's presence
or absence would have made no difference to Bates had he been wrought up
to the same pitch of anger; but neither he nor the girl was in a
condition to know this. He only replied:

"That's the reason I waited till he was dead."

"If he hadn't been hurt so sudden he wouldn't have left me _here."_

"But he _was_ hurt sudden, and he _did_ leave ye here."

She made as if to answer, but did not. Both men were looking at her now.
The snow was white on her hair. Her tears had so long been dry that the
swollen look was passing from her face. It had been until now at best a
heavy face, but feeling that is strong enough works like a master's
swift chisel to make the features the vehicle of the soul. Both men were
relieved when she suddenly took her eyes from them and her shadow from
their work and went away.

Saul stretched his head and looked after her. There was no pity in his
little apple face and beady eyes, only a sort of cunning curiosity, and
the rest was dulness and weakness.

Bates did not look after her. He shut his knife and fell to joining the
coffin.