"What difference is there between us?" he said, indignantly.
"Aw, there's a quare deal of differs," she maintained. "A quare deal. You're a quality-man!..."
"As if that matters," he interrupted.
"It matters a quare lot," she said.
They sat down on a bank by the roadside and he took hold of her hand and pressed it, and then he put his arm about her and drew her head down on to his shoulder.
"Somebody'll see you," she whispered.
"There's no one in sight," he replied.
"Do you love me an awful lot?" she asked, looking up at him.
"You know I do."
"More nor anybody in the world?"