A low carriage, bowling along still more rapidly behind a horse of unimpeachable breed, overtook and passed them.
"Why, there he is!" she said.
Liddy looked.

"That! That's Farmer Boldwood--of course 'tis--the man you couldn't see the other day when he called." "Oh, Farmer Boldwood," murmured Bathsheba, and looked at him as he outstripped them.

The farmer had never turned his head once, but with eyes fixed on the most advanced point along the road, passed as unconsciously and abstractedly as if Bathsheba and her charms were thin air.
"He's an interesting man--don't you think so ?" she remarked.
"O yes, very.

Everybody owns it," replied Liddy.
"I wonder why he is so wrapt up and indifferent, and seemingly so far away from all he sees around him." "It is said--but not known for certain--that he met with some bitter disappointment when he was a young man and merry.

A woman jilted him, they say." "People always say that--and we know very well women scarcely ever jilt men; 'tis the men who jilt us.