The pretty one came towards him with her basket of clothes ready for hanging. He saw her face arrange itself into a smirk. Even the tired, labouring women were laughing at him. Something about her expression made him think of Anne Mansfield—it was on this stretch of the bank that he’d seen the girls turn. He knew then that he had done the right thing in telling Agnes what had happened. The Mansfield sisters had meant to scare him. They were mocking him, testing him. In return, they would feel the full, scalding weight of his anger.
