He observed her, with her sleeves rolled above her elbows, her fine moulded arms, her handsome, if somewhat stern, face, the full lips, the fine sweep of the jaw, the copious, dark hair with warm glints in it, the ripe complexion, and he thought what a good-looking woman she was.
She continued to knead the dough, in total disregard of his presence, and the sun entering through the latticed window played over her arms, the dimpled, rosy elbows her swelling bosom, over which the breast-piece of her white apron was pinned at the shoulders, and it flamed occasionally on her pouting lips.
Then, after a considerable pause, Olver Dench began once more.
'I have come here, Jane, not on the captain's affairs, but on yours.'
'Mine, you will favour me not to trouble about.'
'When I say yours, I really mean those of your child.'
At once she was interested. He saw that. Her arm remained stationary for a moment, the hands plunged in the dough. Then she resumed work with increased energy. She tossed her head and said, 'My child is under my care, and her affairs in no way demand your meddling.'
'That is just as you will,' said Dench with assumed indifference. 'But I would bid you bear in mind that you are at present under the roof of one of the most fanciful, humorous, and shortest-tempered of men. He will welcome you to-day, and if you offend him turn you out of doors to-morrow. He is headstrong, and has brimstone in him, by George! and you have sparks enough in you to make a conflagration probable. Unless you knuckle under to him, he will thrust you and Winefred forth—and you will be once more as you have been—homeless. Did you ever hear tell of the visit made him one day by two gaugers who wanted to overhaul the place? He received them, seated on a keg, with a pistol in his hand. Masters, said he, this little cask is full of gunpowder, come near by another step and I will discharge my pistol into it—and we three will march together. They made for the door. That is your man; wilful, desperate, overbearing. If you cross his will in any particular he will send you to the right-abouts. That will not matter for such as you, but it will be bad for Winefred.'
He perceived by her heightened colour, by her quickened breathing, that he had touched Jane where most sensitive.