‘Mr. Byass, Mrs. Byass says I’m to say she hates you.’
‘All right. Tell her I’ve known it a long time. She needn’t trouble about me; I’m going out to enjoy myself.’
Jane ran back to the kitchen.
‘Mr. Byass says he’s known it a long time,’ she reported, with much gravity. ‘And he’s going out to enjoy himself.’
Bessie remained mute.
‘What message shall I take back, Mrs. Byass?’
‘Tell him if he dares to leave the house, I’ll go to mother’s the first thing to-morrow, and let them know how he’s treating me.’
‘Tell her,’ was Mr. Byass’s reply, ‘that I don’t see what it matters to her whether I’m at home or away. And tell her she’s a cruel wife to me.’
Something like the sound of a snivel came out of the darkness as he concluded. Jane, in reporting his speech, added that she thought he was shedding tears. Thereupon Bessie gave a sob, quite in earnest.
‘So am I,’ she said chokingly. ‘Go and tell him, Jane.’