"I don't know. There isn't much here to tempt him," sighed Martha.
The door opened slowly. "I say—may I come in, Mrs. Stevens?" asked a voice.
A ragged slatternly figure, carrying a baby, entered and drew towards the fire-place. It was their near neighbour, Mrs. Hicks.
"You can sit down," said Martha; "only shut the door first. The wind's bitter cold. Do you want anything?"
"That's a nice question, ain't it?" said Mrs. Hicks, acting on the leave given. "Do I want—anything? O no; we're all so flush o' cash just now, we don't want nothing, do we? Not you, nor me, nor nobody!"
Martha made no answer. She felt too listless and despairing for neighbourly talk. Molly Hicks gazed round the little room with hungry eyes.
"Maybe you've not got to such a pass as we," she said. "Maybe you haven't a crust to spare!"
"Maybe you haven't a crust to spare!" she said.
"It wouldn't be on the shelf long if I had," Martha said in a hard tone.