Elizabeth snorted. The term is vulgar, I know, but no other expression is adequate. 'Oo was listenin', I'd like to know?' she asked. 'I sed overheerd. The door was well on the jar and I was dustin' the 'all when I 'ears Miss Marryun a-moanin' and a-sobbin' like. Missus was talkin' to 'er and soothin' 'er. "Don't carry on so," she ses, "for I tells you, it's no use."
'"No use," ses Miss Marryun in a choked sort o' voice, "why is it no use? I love 'im, I adore 'im. Oh, Willyum, Willyum, you'll break my 'art if you go on with this yeer cold indifference——"'
'Stop,' I interposed sternly. At any other time I might have smiled at the girl's quaint phraseology. But I did not smile just then. Dulce est desipere in loco. Wild as the story sounded, it was making me feel decidedly uncomfortable. A slight perspiration had broken out on my forehead. But I threw a strong note of assurance into my voice as I went on: 'Girl, this is a monstrous action on your part to listen—er—overhear at doors and repeat conversations of a most delicate nature to a third party.'
'What-ho,' put in Elizabeth.
'Now let me show you the mistake under which you are labouring. It is true my name is William, but William is a common name. I have remarked, indeed, that the world is pretty full of Williams. Miss Warrington was in no way referring to me.'
'I don't think,' commented Elizabeth.
'Evidently you don't,' I said severely, 'or you would not make such absurd statements.'
'I ain't done yet,' went on this diabolical creature. 'You say it wasn't meant fer you? Listen. When Miss Marryun goes on wringin' 'er 'ands an' sobbin', "I love my Willyum," missus ses, "But 'ow can you love such a big ugly brute of a man wot's allus throwin' 'is tobacco ash about the place, and scrapin' the fendy with 'is feet and never wears a fancy westcoat even at evernin' parties. 'Ow can you love him?" she arsks.
'"I don't know myself," ses Miss Marryun, "but there it is. I'd rather die than live without my Willyum."'
'Silence,' I burst out fiercely, 'do you think I don't know that all this is pure invention on your part—for what reason I, as yet, cannot tell. How dare you concoct such tales?'