“Come, my good woman, I wish to be kind.”
“Good woman! Sure enough! but I have my husband’s name, thank God, and there then! when you speak to me I be called by it––Joan Penelles. And Joan Penelles do wish you would turn your back on this house; she do that, for you do have a sight of ghastly mean old ways––more than either big or little devil means a young man to have. There then! Go afore John Penelles do find you here. For ’twill be a bad hour for you if he do––and so it will!”
“I did not expect such a reception, Mrs. Penelles. I have dealt honourably with your daughter.”
“You have made my daughter to sin. Aw, then, I will not talk about my daughter with you. No indeed!”
“Have you no message to send to Denas?”
“Denas do know her mother’s heart and her 197 father’s heart, and when she do find it in her own heart to leave that sinful place––the the-a-tre––and dress herself like a decent wife and a good woman, and sing for God and not for the devil, and sing for love and not for money, aw, then, who will love her as quick and as warm as I will? But if you do want a message, tell her she have broken her good father’s life in two; and that I do blame myself I ever gave her suck!”
Roland listened to these words with a scoffing air of great amusement; he looked steadily at Joan with a smile that was intolerable to her, then he raised his hat with an elaborate flourish and said:
“Good-morning, Mrs. Penelles.”
No notice was taken of this salute, and he added with an offensive mirthfulness:
“Perhaps I ought to say, ‘Good-morning, mother.’”