‘I couldn’t be sure as you was comin’, Bob; how could I? But I’ll soon get the kettle boilin’.’
‘Couldn’t be sure as I was coming? Why, I’ve been back every night this week—except two or three.’
It was Thursday, but Bob meant nothing jocose.
‘Look here!’ he continued, fixing a surly eye upon her. ‘What do you mean by complaining about me to people? Just mind your own business. When was that girl Jane Snowdon here last?’
‘Yesterday, Bob.’
‘I thought as much, Did she give you anything?’ He made this inquiry in rather a shamefaced way.
‘No, she didn’t.’
‘Well, I tell you what it is. I’m not going to have her coming about the place, so understand that. When she comes next, you’ll just tell her she needn’t come again.’
Pennyloaf looked at him with dismay. For the delivery of this command Bob had seated himself on the corner of the table and crossed his arms. But for the touch of black-guardism in his appearance, Bob would have been a very good-looking fellow; his face was healthy, by no means commonplace in its mould, and had the peculiar vividness which indicates ability—so impressive, because so rarely seen, in men of his level. Unfortunately his hair was cropped all but to the scalp, in the fashionable manner; it was greased, too, and curled up on one side of his forehead with a peculiarly offensive perkishness. Poor Pennyloaf was in a great degree responsible for the ills of her married life; not only did she believe Bob to be the handsomest man who walked the earth but in her weakness she could not refrain from telling him as much. At the present moment he was intensely self-conscious; with Pennyloaf’s eye upon him, he posed for effect. The idea of forbidding future intercourse with Jane had come to him quite suddenly; it was by no means his intention to make his order permanent, for Jane had now and then brought little presents which were useful, but just now he felt a satisfaction in asserting authority. Jane should understand that he regarded her censure of him with high displeasure.
‘You don’t mean that, Bob?’ murmured Pennyloaf.