Steve. Well, I shouldn’t have much cared for that, George.
George. Steve—did you get a look into the eyes of yon poor thing last night?
Steve. No, nor wanted for to, neither.
George. There was naught to make you think of—
Steve. Of what, George?
George. There—Steve, I can’t get it out, I can’t.
Steve. Then let it bide in.
George. ’Twas the way her was laid, and the long arms of she, and the hands which was clapped one on t’other, as it might be in church.
Steve. [Looking through the window.] You shut up, George. Here’s Annie with Rose a-coming up to the door. Don’t you get saying another word about yon poor wretch nor the end of her. I wouldn’t have my Annie upset for all the world to-day. ’Tis a thing as must not be spoke of afore they, nor Dorry neither, do you hear?
[He moves towards the door and puts his hand to the latch.