She knew from this that Creedle had just come from Sherton, and had called as usual at the post-office for anything that had arrived by the afternoon post, of which there was no delivery at Hintock.

She pondered on what the letter might contain--particularly whether it were a second refresher for Winterborne from her father, like her own of the morning.
But it appeared to have no bearing upon herself whatever.

Giles read its contents; and almost immediately turned away to a gap in the hedge of the orchard--if that could be called a hedge which, owing to the drippings of the trees, was little more than a bank with a bush upon it here and there.

He entered the plantation, and was no doubt going that way homeward to the mysterious hut he occupied on the other side of the woodland.
The sad sands were running swiftly through Time's glass; she had often felt it in these latter days; and, like Giles, she felt it doubly now after the solemn and pathetic reminder in her father's communication.
Her freshness would pass, the long-suffering devotion of Giles might suddenly end--might end that very hour.

Men were so strange.