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CHAPTER VII DAVID'S TREAT "When I have followed to its end the clew of which we have been speaking," replied Jen, and taking off his hat he walked swiftly away from the house. Swiftly, as he was afraid lest Isabella would ask him indoors, and for certain reasons not unconnected with the late conversation, he did not wish to face Mrs. Dallas at the present moment. There were large issues at stake. "There oughtn't to be any for you," said Margaret Howes, impulsively laying her hand on Elinor's. "There isn't anything coming to you but plain every-day satisfaction in getting your rights.".
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"No; that is not the answer." Mrs. Dallas was a large, fat and eminently lazy woman, who passed most of her time in knitting or sleeping or eating. Her husband had died before she had come to England, and it was the desire to preserve her daughter's health which had brought her so far from the sun-baked islands which her soul loved. "Is dere poison in de bag, white man?" "Can I do so?".
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