"I dunnot wonder as they say yo're han'some," she volunteered.
"Who says so?" coldly.
"Th' men in th' Works an' th' foak as sees yo' i' th' street. Some on 'em says you're han'somer than her—an' that's sayin' a good bit, yo' know."
"'Her' is Miss Ffrench?"
"Aye. Yo' dunnot dress as foine, an' yo're dark-skinned, but theer's summat noice about yo'. I dunnot wonder as they say yo're han'some."
"Never mind talking about that. Tell me about something else."
The termination of the interview left them on sufficiently good terms.
Janey went home with a story to tell.
"She's crossed th' seas," she said, "an' lived i' furrin parts. She's getten queer ways an' she stares at a body—but I loike her fur aw that."