"'Appen Sir Clifford 'ud know," he said, putting her off.
"Yes!" she said, "he might have another. Otherwise we could have one made from the one you have. It would only take a day or so, I suppose. You could spare your key for so long."
"Ah canna tell yer, m' lady! Ah know nob'dy as ma'es keys round 'ere."
Connie suddenly flushed with anger.
"Very well!" she said. "I'll see to it."
"All right, your Ladyship."
Their eyes met. His had a cold, ugly look of dislike and contempt, and indifference to what would happen. Hers were hot with rebuff.
But her heart sank, she saw how utterly he disliked her, when she went against him. And she saw him in a sort of desperation.
"Good afternoon!"
"Afternoon, my Lady!" He saluted and turned abruptly away. She had wakened the sleeping dogs of old voracious anger in him, anger against the self-willed female. And he was powerless, powerless. He knew it!