"What do you want?" she demanded.
"It's lonely wark, Kate, living wi' a wife that's no wife, an' I willun't stand it."
"When you had me, Joe," said she bitterly, "you were never so free with kindness. A woman gets tired of being kicked out of bed, and I'm not going to risk it again."
"When fowks is wed, they're wed. Me an' thee's teed fast as parson could tee us, an' I've a right to thee—ay, that I hev—a right o' law, an' a right o' parson."
A swift smile came to Kate's lips, as she straightened herself and sought his eye in the semi-darkness.
"Then, Joe Strangeways, you can go for the parson and bring him to help you; for you'll never touch me again, if I have to fight the lot of you."
"I'm a honest man," Joe declared, after a disconcerted pause.
"It's a queer country that would call you honest, Joe." The wife was feeling almost flippant for the moment, as the stronger sort of women do in moments of strain.
A long silence followed, broken only by the shuffling of Joe's feet, and the ticking of the clock in the kitchen down below, and the rattle of mice behind the wainscoting.