Miss Insull gave the dog a final pat.
“So that’s settled,” said Mr. Critchlow. “Now, missis, ye want to give up this shop, don’t ye?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Constance answered uneasily.
“Don’t tell me!” he protested. “Of course ye want to give up the shop.”
“I’ve lived here all my life,” said Constance.
“Ye’ve not lived in th’ shop all ye’re life. I said th’ shop. Listen here!” he continued. “I’ve got a proposal to make to you. You can keep on the house, and I’ll take the shop off ye’re hands. Now?” He looked at her inquiringly.
Constance was taken aback by the brusqueness of the suggestion, which, moreover, she did not understand.
“But how—” she faltered.
“Come here,” said Mr. Critchlow, impatiently, and he moved towards the house-door of the shop, behind the till.
“Come where? What do you want?” Constance demanded in a maze.