Looking at her, he chafed her limp hands,--his huge, uncouth face growing pale.

When she was better, he said, gravely,-- "I want you, Margret.

Not at home, child.

I want to show you something." He turned with her suddenly off the main road into a by-path, helping her along, watching her stealthily, but going on with his disjointed, bearish growls.

If it stung her from her pain, vexing her, he did not care.
"I want to show you a bit of hell: outskirt.