She: And the work, Martin. I have swept and dusted our cottage every hole and corner.
Myself: And found nothing left by its last tenant?
She: Nothing.
Myself: Had he but thought to leave us a saw our chairs and table would have been the better.
She: Then you will make them, Martin?
Myself: Aye—with time.
She: O 'tis bravely determined.
And here, for a moment, I felt the light touch of her hand on my shoulder.
Myself: They will be very unlovely things—very rough—
She: And very wonderful, Martin.