“Ey? That!” repeated Robbie, no more explicit.
“Foolish boy! Didn't you tell us yourself fifty times?”
“So I did. Did I though? What am I saying? When did I tell you?”
Robbie's eyes were staring out of his head. His face, not too ruddy at first, was now as pale as ashes.
Liza began to whimper.
“Why do you look like that?” she said.
“Look? Oh, ey, ey! I'm a ruffian, that's what I am. Never mind, lass.”
Robbie's eyes regained their accustomed expression, and his features, which had been drawn down, returned to their natural proportions.
Liza's face underwent a corresponding change.
“Robbie, have you 'downed' him—that Garth?”