"No—no—no! You don't understand."
"I'll try to. What do you want? Tell me."
"To help him."
"You can't help him," he said softly.
"I couldn't help him if 'e was rich. I can help him if he's poor."
He smiled. "How do you make that out, Maggie?"
"Well—he ought to marry a lady, I know. But he can't marry a lady. She'd cost him pounds and pounds. If he married me I'd cost him nothing. I'd work for him."
Majendie was startled at this reasoning. Maggie was more intelligent than he had thought.
She went on. "I can cook, I can do housework, I can sew. I'm learning dressmaking. Look—" She held up a coarse lining she had been stitching at when he came. From its appearance he judged that Maggie was as yet a novice in her art.
"I'd work my fingers to the bone for him."