"I—I dunnot want it!" she cried. "I dunnot want it. I can na mak' thee out!"
"You're not as sharp as I took you for, if you don't want it," he answered. "You'll not earn another as easy, my lass."
Only stern common sense rescued her from the weakness of backing out of the room into the next apartment.
"I dunnot know what tha'rt drivin' at," she said. "I tell thee—I dunnot know nowt."
"Does he never say," he put it to her, "that he's been there—and that he's seen her—and that she's sat and talked—and that he's looked at her—and listened—and thought over it afterward?"
This was the last straw. Bewilderment turned to contempt.
"That would na be worth ten shillin'," she said. "Tha knows he's been theer, an' tha knows he's seen her, an' tha knows he could na see her wi'out lookin' at her. I dunnot see as theer's owt i' lookin' at her, or i' listenin' neyther. Wheer's th' use o' givin ten shillin' to hear summat yo' know yo'rsen? There's nowt i' that!"
"Has he ever said it?" he persisted.
"No," she answered, "he has na. He nivver wur much give ter talk, an' he says less than ivver i' these days."