MY PEOPLE
farmers’ sons lay in wait for her in lonely places. Men spoke to her frankly, and with counterfeit smiles in their faces; Sara Jane answered their lustful sayings with lewd laughter, and when the attack became too pressing she picked up her petticoats and ran home. Nor was she put out over the attentions she received: she was well favoured and she liked to be desired; and in the twilight of an evening her full-bosomed, ripe beauty struck Simon suddenly as he met her in the close. Her eyes were dancing with delight, and her breast heaving. Sadrach the Small had chased her right to Penrhos.
Simon and Beca discussed this that had happened, and became exceedingly afraid for her.
“There’s an old boy, dear me, for you indeed!” said Simon. “The wench fach is four over twenty now, and fretful I feel.”
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