Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. There is no future for me here. Eh bien, they would see about this. My people don’t know what to do. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers.
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