"Come here, chit. Let me look at that shawl."
She obeyed. She knelt acquiescent. He put his watch back into his pocket, and fingered the shawl.
Then she said:
"I suppose one'll be allowed to grumble at Georgie for locking his bedroom door." And she said it with a touch of mockery in her clear, precise voice, as though twitting him, and Ingpen too, about their absurd theoretical sense of honour towards children. And there was a touch of fine bitterness in her voice also,--a reminiscence of the old Hilda. Incalculable creature! Who could have guessed that she would make such a remark at such a moment? In his mind he dashed George to pieces. But as a wise male he ignored all her implications and answered casually, mildly, with an affirmative.
She went on:
"What were you talking such a long time to Johnnie Orgreave about?"
"Talking a long time to Johnnie Orgreave? Oh! D'you mean at the front-door? Why, it wasn't half a minute! He happened to mention a piece of land down at Shawport that I had a sort of a notion of buying."
"Buying? What for?" Her tone hardened.
"Well, supposing I had to build a new works?"
"You never told me anything about it."