Janet shrugged her shoulders, smiled with scornful disbelief, and looked over the tossing black waters.
“Woman, I wish to go through your house, I believe my wife is in it.”
“Go through my house? No indeed. Do you think I’ll let a man with a whip in his hand go through my house after a poor frightened bird like Sophy? No, no, not while my name is Janet Binnie.”
“I rode here; my whip is for my horse. Do you think I would use it on any woman?”
“God knows, I don’t.”
“I am not a brute.”
“You say so yourself.”
“Woman, I did not come here to bandy words with you.”
“Man, I’m no caring to hear another word you have to say; take yourself off my door-stone,” and Janet would have shut the door in his face, but he would not permit her.
“Tell Sophy to come and speak to me.”