“No, not him! He’s one of the hardest landlords in Sydney—the worst I ever had.”
“That’s red-hot!... I’d take it in spite of him. He can’t do nothin’.”
“But I daren’t; and even if I did I haven’t got a penny to pay for a van.”
They neared the alley. Bill counted the flagstones, stepping from one to another over the joints. “Eighteen-nineteen-twenty-twenty-one!” he counted mentally, and came to the corner kerbing. Then he turned suddenly and faced her.
“I’ll tell you what to do,” he said decidedly. “Can you get your things ready by to-night? I know a cove that’s got a cart.”
“But I daren’t. I’m afraid of the landlord.”
“The more fool you,” said Bill. “Well, I’m not afraid of him. He can’t do nothin’. I’m not afraid of a landlady, and that’s worse. I know the law. He can’t do nothin’. You just do as I tell you.”
“I’d want to think over it first, and see my sister-in-law.”
“Where does your sister-’n-law live?”
“Not far.”