Over the railing she saw the low green country; over the green trees the roofs of the town; over the roofs a white flat facade, denoting the entrance to the county jail.

On the roof of this front specks were moving about; they seemed to be workmen erecting something.

Her flesh crept.

She descended slowly, and was soon amid corn-fields and pastures.
In another half-hour, when it was almost dusk, Gertrude reached the White Hart, the first inn of the town on that side.
Little surprise was excited by her arrival; farmers' wives rode on horseback then more than they do now; though, for that matter, Mrs.Lodge was not imagined to be a wife at all; the innkeeper supposed her some harum-skarum young woman who had come to attend 'hang-fair' next day.
Neither her husband nor herself ever dealt in Casterbridge market, so that she was unknown.

While dismounting she beheld a crowd of boys standing at the door of a harness-maker's shop just above the inn, looking inside it with deep interest.
'What is going on there ?' she asked of the ostler.
'Making the rope for to-morrow.' She throbbed responsively, and contracted her arm.
''Tis sold by the inch afterwards,' the man continued.