"I can supply them better than she is getting them now," he said.
Mrs. Corbett gave an exclamation of surprise.
"But she's a married woman," she cried, "and a good woman, and what are you, Rance? Sure you're no mate for any honest woman, you blackhearted, smooth-tongued divil!" Mrs. Corbett's Irish temper was mounting higher and higher, and two red spots burned in her cheeks. "You know as well as I do that there's no happiness for any woman that goes wrong. That woman must stand by her man, and he's a good fellow, Fred is; such a fine, clean, honest lad, he never suspects anyone of being a crook or meanin' harm. Why can't you go off and leave them alone, Rance? They were doin' fine before you came along. Do one good turn, Rance, and take yourself off."
"You ask too much, Mrs. Corbett. I find Mrs. Brydon very pleasant company, and Mr. Fred does not object to my presence."
"But he would if he knew how the people talk about it."
"That is very wrong of them, and entirely unavoidable," Rance answered, calmly, "But the opinion of the neighbors has never bothered me yet," he continued; "why should it in this instance?"
Mrs. Corbett's eyes flashed ominously.
"Do you know what I'd do if it was my girl you were after?" she asked, pausing in her work and fixing her eyes on him.
"Something very unpleasant, I should say, by the tone of your voice— and, by the way, you are pointing your potato knife at me—"
Mrs. Corbett with an effort controlled her temper.