At this moment Jenny came in. Robinson cleaned the poor knives harder still and did not speak; his cue was to find out what was passing in the girl's mind. But she washed her cup and saucer and plates in silence. Presently the bell rang.
“Tom!” said Jenny quietly.
“Would you mind going, Jenny?”
“Me! it is not my business.”
“No, Jenny! but once in a way if you will be so kind.”
“Once! why I have been twice to the door for you to-day. You to your place and I to mine. Shan't go!”
“Look at me with my coat off and covered with brickdust.”
“Put your coat on and shake the dust off.”
“Oh, Jenny! that is not like you to refuse me such a trifle. I would not disoblige you so.”
“I didn't refuse,” said Jenny, making for the door; “I only said 'no' once or twice—we don't call that refusing;” but as she went out of the door she turned sharp as if to catch Robinson's face off its guard; and her gray eye dwelt on him with one of those demure, inexplicable looks her sex can give all ab extra—seeing all, revealing nothing.