Christmas was over and gone.
It was the last week in January.
All through December Rowcliffe's visits to the Vicarage had continued.
But in January they ceased. That was not to be wondered at. Even Ally
couldn't wonder. There was influenza in every other house in the Dale.
Then, one day, Gwenda, walking past Upthorne, heard wheels behind
her and the clanking hoofs of the doctor's horse. She knew what would
happen. Rowcliffe would pull up a yard or two in front of her. He
would ask her where she was going and he would make her drive with him
over the moor. And she knew that she would go with him. She would not
be able to refuse him.
But the clanking hoofs went by and never stopped. There were two men
in the trap. Acroyd, Rowcliffe's groom, sat in Rowcliffe's place,
driving. He touched his hat to her as he passed her.
Beside him there was a strange man.