“By Jove!” he said. “You are a cool hand, young woman—but you can set your mind at rest. I shall not leave Riggan to-morrow morning, as you modestly demand—not only because I have further business to transact, but because I choose to remain. I shall not make any absurd promises about not seeing Lizzie, which, it seems to me, is more my business than yours, under the circumstances—and I shall not take the money back.”
“Yo' willna?”
“No, I will not.”
“Very well. I ha' no more to say,” and she went out of the room, leaving the package lying upon the table.
When she reached home, Liz was still sitting as she had left her, and she looked up tearful and impatient.
“Well?” she said.
“He has th' money,” was Joan's answer, “an' he ha' shown me as he is a villain.”
She came and stood near the girl, a strong emotion in her half pitying, half appealing look.
“Lizzie, lass!” she said. “Tha mun listen to me,—tha mun. Tha mun mak' me a promise before tha tak's thy choild upo' thy breast toneet.”
“I dunnot care,” protested Liz, weeping fretfully. “I dunnot care what I do. It's aw as bad as ivver now. I dunnot care for nowt. Ivvery-body's at me—noan on yo' will let me a-be. What wi' first one an' then another I'm a'most drove wild.”