"You—know—why."
"Naw. I doan' knaw, sir."
"Then, if you don't know, you must find out. You will go down to the surgery this afternoon and see Dr. Rowcliffe, and he will report on your case."
She started and the red blood rose in her face.
"I s'all not goa and see him, Mr. Cartaret."
She was very quiet.
"Very good. Then I shall pay you a month's wages and you will go on
Saturday."
It was then that her mouth trembled so that her eyes shone large through her tears.
"I wasn't gawn to staay, sir—to be a trooble. I sud a gien yo' nawtice in anoother moonth."
She paused. There was a spasm in her throat as if she swallowed with difficulty her bitter pride. Her voice came thick and hoarse.