Unconscious, rapt, they stepped out into the Big Road skirting the edge of the swamp. Why not? Was it not the King’s Highway? And Love was King.
So they talked on, unknowing that far up the road the Cresswell coaches were wheeling along with precious burdens.
In the first carriage were Mrs. ¬ÝGrey and Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool, Mr. ¬ÝCresswell and Miss Taylor. Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool was lolling luxuriously, but Mrs. ¬ÝGrey was a little stiff from long travel and sat upright. Mr. ¬ÝCresswell looked clean-cut and handsome, and Miss Taylor seemed complacent and responsible.
The dying of the day soothed them all insensibly. Groups of dark little children passed them as they neared the school, staring with wide eyes and greeting timidly.
‚ÄúThere seems to be marrying and giving in marriage,‚Äù laughed Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool.
‚ÄúNot very much,‚Äù said Mr. ¬ÝCresswell drily.
“Well, at least plenty of children.”
“Plenty.”
‚ÄúBut where are the houses?‚Äù asked Mrs. ¬ÝGrey.
‚ÄúPerhaps in the swamp,‚Äù said Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool lightly, looking up at the sombre trees that lined the left.
‚ÄúThey live where they please and do as they please,‚Äù Cresswell explained; to which Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool added: ‚ÄúLike other animals.‚Äù