“I ain’t got a watch and chain,” said the woman, “you may as well give me yourn.”
Without a word Mrs Riversley unhooked the little gold watch from her side, drew the chain from her neck, and threw it over that of her servant, whose closely set eyes twinkled with delight.
“You must pay me the money in advance every year,” said the woman now sharply. “I’m not going without the first year.”
Without replying Mrs Riversley walked to a side-table, unlocked a desk, and from the drawer took out four crisp new bank-notes.
Jane Glyne, maid-of-all-work at the Dingle, a place two miles from everywhere, as she said, and at which she was sure no decent servant would stop, held out her crooked fingers for the money, but Mrs Riversley placed the hand containing the notes behind her.
“One word first,” she said firmly. “I have agreed in every respect to the hard terms you have made.”
“Well, if you call them hard terms”—began the woman in an insolent tone.
“Silence!” exclaimed Mrs Riversley, “and listen to me.”
She spoke in a low deep voice, full of emotion, and the low-bred woman quailed before her as she went on.
“I say I have come to your terms that you have imposed upon me.”