It was to Adam the time that a man can least forget in after-life, the time when he believes that the first woman he has ever loved betrays by a slight something--a word, a tone, a glance, the quivering of a lip or an eyelid--that she is at least beginning to love him in return.
He was not wrong in thinking that a change had come over Hetty: the anxieties and fears of a first passion, with which she was trembling, had become stronger than vanity, had given her for the first time that sense of helpless dependence on another's feeling which awakens the clinging deprecating womanhood even in the shallowest girl that can ever experience it, and creates in her a sensibility to kindness which found her quite hard before.
But now, you see, I can carry the basket with one arm, as if it was an empty nutshell, and give you th' other arm to lean on.
Stick it in your frock, and then you can put it in water after.
What can a woman have to set her off better than her own hair, when it curls so, like yours?
"I think she sets the jug under and forgets to turn the tap, as there's nothing you can't believe o' them wenches: they'll set the empty kettle o' the fire, and then come an hour after to see if the water boils."
Poyser, "we've heared nothing about him, for it's the boys' hollodays now, so we can give you no account."
If you can catch Adam for a husband, Hetty, you'll ride i' your own spring-cart some day, I'll be your warrant."