“Twon't please yu when I've bashed yure head in!”
“Indeed! When would you like to begin that?”
Joe answered only with the loudness of his breathing, but his eyes looked like those of a young and angry bull. Then a sort of spasm seemed to convulse his face.
“Megan don' want yu.”
A rush of jealousy, of contempt, and anger with this thick, loud-breathing rustic got the better of Ashurst's self-possession; he jumped up, and pushed back his chair.
“You can go to the devil!”
And as he said those simple words, he saw Megan in the doorway with a tiny brown spaniel puppy in her arms. She came up to him quickly:
“Its eyes are blue!” she said.
Joe turned away; the back of his neck was literally crimson.
Ashurst put his finger to the mouth of the little brown bullfrog of a creature in her arms. How cosy it looked against her!