Don't notice me." She turned away.

I waited, in the firm persuasion that the unspoken question in her mind would sooner or later force its way to utterance by her lips.

I was right.

She came back to me unwillingly, like a woman acting under some influence which the utmost exertion of her will was powerless to resist.
"Do _you_ believe John Jago is still a living man ?" She put the question vehemently, desperately, as if the words rushed out of her mouth in spite of her.
"I do _not_ believe it," I answered.
"Remember what John Jago has suffered at the hands of my brothers," she persisted.

"Is it not in your experience that he should take a sudden resolution to leave the farm ?" I replied, as plainly as before, "It is _not_ in my experience." She stood looking at me for a moment with a face of blank despair; then bowed her gray head in silence, and left me.