‘I don’t care whether there’s one or a dozen,’ said Mr Flintwinch, forcibly suggesting in his tone that the higher number was nearer the mark. ‘If there was fifty, they should all say, None of your nonsense with me, I won’t take it from you—I’d make ‘em say it, whether they liked it or not.’
‘What have I done, you wrathful man?’ her strong voice asked.
‘Done?’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Dropped down upon me.’
‘If you mean, remonstrated with you—’
‘Don’t put words into my mouth that I don’t mean,’ said Jeremiah, sticking to his figurative expression with tenacious and impenetrable obstinacy: ‘I mean dropped down upon me.’
‘I remonstrated with you,’ she began again, ‘because—’
‘I won’t have it!’ cried Jeremiah. ‘You dropped down upon me.’
‘I dropped down upon you, then, you ill-conditioned man,’ (Jeremiah chuckled at having forced her to adopt his phrase,) ‘for having been needlessly significant to Arthur that morning. I have a right to complain of it as almost a breach of confidence. You did not mean it—’
‘I won’t have it!’ interposed the contradictory Jeremiah, flinging back the concession. ‘I did mean it.’
‘I suppose I must leave you to speak in soliloquy if you choose,’ she replied, after a pause that seemed an angry one. ‘It is useless my addressing myself to a rash and headstrong old man who has a set purpose not to hear me.’