Nothing that he could think of could be done
to check the exposure. "Curse my luck!" he whispered,
and added imprecations which rustled in the gloom like
a pestilent wind. Meanwhile Boldwood said, taking up
the note from her lap --
"Don't you wish to read it, Mrs. Troy? If not,
I'll destroy it."
"Oh, well." said Bathsheba, carelessly, "perhaps it is
unjust not to read it; but I can guess what it is about.
He wants me to recommend him, or it is to tell me of
some little scandal or another connected with my work-
people. He's always doing that."
Bathsheba held the note in her right hand. Bold-
wood handed towards her a plate of cut bread-and-
butter; when, in order to take a slice, she put the note
into her left hand, where she was still holding the purse,
and then allowed her hand to drop beside her close to
the canvas. The moment had come for saving his game,
and Troy impulsively felt that he would play the card,
For yet another time he looked at the fair hand, and
saw the pink finger-tips, and the blue veins of the
wrist, encircled by a bracelet of coral chippings which
she wore: how familiar it all was to him! Then, with
the lightning action in which he was such an adept, he
noiselessly slipped his hand under the bottom of the
tent-cloth, which was far from being pinned tightly down,
lifted it a little way, keeping his eye to the hole,
snatched the note from her fingers, dropped the canvas,
and ran away in the gloom towards the bank and ditch,
smiling at the scream of astonishment which burst from
her.
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