There were one or two lines, very faint lines, in her forehead; no one ever saw them.

She could hardly see them herself.
Supposing--why should she not suppose it ?--supposing Mr.Juxon were to take a fancy to her, as a lone bachelor of forty and odd might easily take a fancy to a pretty woman who was his tenant and lived at his gate, what should she do?
He was an honest man, and she was a conscientious woman; she could not deceive him, if it came to that.

She would have to tell him the whole truth.

As she thought of it, she turned pale and trembled.

And yet she had liked his face, she had told him he might call at the cottage, and her woman's instinct foresaw that she was to see him often.