“One can't believe anything they say. That's what I hate. I thought Hughs simply knocked her about. I didn't know it was her jealousy—”
“Of course you didn't. Do you imagine those people give anything away to our sort unless they're forced? They know better.”
“Well, I hate the whole thing—it's all so sordid!”
“O Lord!”
“Well, it is! I don't feel that I want to help a woman who can say and feel such horrid things, or the girl, or any of them.”
“Who cares what they say or feel? that's not the point. It's simply a case of common sense: Your people put that girl there, and they must get her to clear out again sharp. It's just a question of what's healthy.”
“Well, I know it's not healthy for me to have anything to do with, and I won't! I don't believe you can help people unless they want to be helped.”
Martin whistled.
“You're rather a brute, I think,” said Thyme.
“A brute, not rather a brute. That's all the difference.”