Windyridge

***Excerpt from Windyridge***: "[...] not ask you to make out an agreement until to-morrow-to-morrow morning. "But I claim to be a Yorkshire-woman, and so can be just a wee bit stupid myself, and you know the proverb says, 'When a woman says she will, she will, you may depend on 't.' Tell me, though, is not ten pounds per annum a very low rental, seeing that the cottage is furnished?" "Low enough," he answered, "sadly too low; but it's as much as I can get. I charge fifteen shillin' a week in [...]".***--Library Thing*** ***Excerpt from Windyridge:*** Yet how strange it all seems how ridiculously fantastic I cannot get away from that thought, and I am constantly asking myself whether Providence or Fate, or any other power with a capital letter at the beginning, is directing the move for my good, or whether it is just whimsical-ness on my part, self originated and self-explanatory - the explanation being that I am mad, as I said before. When I look back on the events of the last three days and realise that I have crossed my Rubicon and burned my boats behind me, and that I had no conscious intention of doing anything of the kind when I set out, I just gasp. If I had stayed to reason