"'Tis a thousand pities the wretched fellow can't be kept away."
"For your sake it is, without a doubt—a thousand pities," admitted Charity. "She loves you very well, and a good wife she'll make—and a thrifty—but she won't trust herself if that man's curly hair and blue eyes turn up here again."
"Is it to be done—can we keep him off—pay him off—bribe him—anything?"
"Now you talk sense. There's very few things can't be done in this world, Mr. Hacker, if you get a determined man and a determined woman pulling the same way. Man's strength and woman's wit together—what's ever been known to stand against 'em?"
"Help me, then," he said.
"Me! You want me to help—with my 'tomfoolery'?"
She roasted him proper for a bit, then came to business.
"I can't work for nought, and since 'tis the whole of your future life that depends upon it, I reckon you'll be generous. If I succeed I shall look to you for thirty pound, Peter Hacker; if I fail, I'll ax for nothing. Still, I do believe I may be able to get you out of this, though 'twill call for oceans of trouble."
He tried to haggle, but she'd none of that—wouldn't bate her offer by a shilling. So he came to it.
"Thirty pound I must have the day you marry Mary," she said. "And now tell me all you know about this rash, savage man, Nathan Coaker. The more I understand the better chance shall I have of keeping him off your throat."