" "Agreed. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. ’ Tears glistened in her eyes. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. Lucy was a hard worker and a good cook and because of those traits she and Sheila had gotten along most of the time. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast.
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