The verge of the haymead. "Ah, Miss Everdene!" said the seargent, lifting his small cap, "Little did I think it was you I was speaking to the other night. And yet, if I had reflected, 'the Queen of the Corn- market' - truth is truth at any hour of day or night, and I have heard you so named in Casterbridge yesterday - the Queen of the Corn-market', I say could be no other woman. I step across now to beg your forgiveness a thousand times for having been led by my feelings to express myself too strongly for a stranger. To be sure I am not stranger to the place. I am seargent Troy, as I told you, and I have assisted your uncle in the fields so many times when I was a lad. I have been doing the same for you today." "I suppose I must thank you for that, seargent Troy," said the Queen of the Corn-market, in an indifferently grateful tone. The seargent looked hurt and sad. "Indeed you must not, Miss Everdene," he said, "Why could...