"Johnson's?" Ranny could not conceal his innocent dismay. Johnson's operations and his premises were so diminutive that for Winny—after Starker's—the descent seemed awful.
"Are you sure she wanted it?"
"She must have wanted it pretty badly when she's willing to take seven bob a week less screw. And if she'd waited till Michaelmas she'd have got her rise."
Ranny bent his head low over his cup. He felt his face burning with a shame that he could not comprehend. He knew that Violet was looking at him, and that made it worse.
"You needn't worry," she was saying. "It isn't your fault if she makes a fool of herself."
"Makes a fool of herself? What do you mean?"
The heat in his face mounted and flamed in his ears; and he knew that he was angry.
"You ought to know," she sneered.
He was hotter. He was intolerably hot.
"I don't, then," he retorted.