"I telled thee how it 'ud be," she said, with a toss of the head. "Griff Lummax war up yester afternooin an' stayed his tea."
"Stayed his tea, did he? Can't he get decent pickings at home?" muttered Joe, whose head and temper were alike impaired by his carouse.
"An' after that he stayed th' neet. They reckoned it war too wild for him to cross th' moor. Too wild! I'd hev crossed myseln, it war that bright."
"Nay, lass, tha'rt wrang there. It war thick, main thick, or I'd hev been home long sin'."
"Drink maks a man see thick," observed Hannah, dispassionately. And Joe took to himself a shamefaced look.
"Did tha see owt?" he asked presently.
"See? Ay, a bonny sight too mich. I saw 'em kissing by th' parlour fire. An' at after that—well, th' missus knaws best what happened at after. See yonder, he's coming dahn th' stair now, fair as if he owned th' place."
Joe's face grew black with rage. He never doubted Hannah's story, to its uttermost detail. This, then, was what he had worked and hoped for—the wife who had scorned him was on his own level at last. Yet he was not pleased, when it came home to him how well his plan had succeeded; his jealousy was roused; he felt the need of Kate more than he had yet done in his six years of courtship and marriage. He stood with his hands behind him and watched Griff come down step by step.
"Tha'rt i' th' wrang house, seemingly," he growled.
"Through no fault of mine. Why didn't you return last night?" retorted Lomax, quickly. He had not given thought enough to Kate's danger; but he realized now that he must carry the thing through with a high hand, if the ugly brute at the stair-foot were to be silenced.