'And what's that one?' he asked, like a mother helping in a child's
game. He pointed to a parcel which contained chemises and nightdresses.

'That,' said Mrs. Marston, frowning portentously at Hazel, who was
tearing it open--'that is other useful garments.'

'What for canna I show 'em Ed'ard? I want to show all. The money was
his'n.'

It was a tribute to Edward's self-control that she was so entirely
lacking in shyness towards him.

'My dear! A young man!' whispered Mrs. Marston.

Suddenly, by some strange necromancy, there was conjured in Hazel's
mind a picture of Reddin--flushed, hard-eyed, with an expression
that aroused in her misgiving and even terror. So she had seen him
just before she fled to Vessons. At the remembrance she flushed so
deeply that Mrs. Marston congratulated herself on the fact that her
daughter-in-law had _some_ modesty and right feeling.

If she had known who caused the flush, who it was that had awakened the
love of pretty clothes which Edward was satisfying, she would have
thought very different thoughts, and would have been utterly miserable.
For her love for Edward was deep enough to make her wish him to have
what he wanted, and not what she thought he ought to want, as long as
he did not clash with her religion. For Edward to know it, though so
early in his love for Hazel, would have meant a rocking of heaven and
earth around him. Even she, with her childish egotism like a shell
about her, realized that this was a thing that could not be.