“She’s got a bit o’ money though,” said Mus’ Beatup. “I shan’t put a spoke in his wheel if he wants to marry her.”
“Him marry! Wot are you thinking of, Ned? He’s only a bit of a boy, as I’ve told you. Besides, she aun’t got no looks; she’s just a plain dump of a woman, and a boy liks a pretty faace.”
“Mrs. Honey’s middling pretty,” said Ivy, “with colour and teeth and all.”
“You’ve got queer notions of pretty. Why, only yesterday Mrs. Sinden wur saying to me as she can’t think wot Sam Honey ever saw in Thyrza Shearne. And you can’t git naun out of her, she’s slow as a cow, and she looks at you lik a cow chewing the cud....”
Nell broke in—
“You’re all taking it for granted that Mrs. Honey would have Tom if she was given the chance. Maybe he’d be quite safe even if he asked her.”
“Nonsense, my girl,” cried Mus’ Beatup. “A woman ud taake any man as wur fool enough to ask her; if a woman’s unwed you may reckon she’s never been asked.”
Ivy laughed loudly at this, and Nell turned crimson.
“Women aren’t going quite so cheap as you think.”