This time she obeyed; she rose slowly from her seat and went reluctantly to his side.
“Matt, look me in the face,” he said; “do you know who this painter is?”
Matt shook her head.
“How many times have you seen him?”
“Twice.”
“And what has he said to you?”
“A lot o’ things.”
“Tell me one thing.”
“He asked me who my mother was, and I told him I hadn’t got none.”
Mr. Monk’s face once more grew black as night.