“Don’t say that, Olver; he’s strong; different, but as strong as me.”
“Oh, his body’s strong enough, but there’s something burns him away inside. Look at his eyes.”
“Olver, don’t say such terrible things. What do you know? I never can tell how much you know,—you’re simple, aren’t you? He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t complain to you, does he?”
“He’ll die, but he won’t have complained once. And we shall never know. He’s good to us both, isn’t he?”
“Good,—yes, he’s good; but you don’t understand, Olver, you needn’t rub it into me how good he is or how much he’s worth. I know it already, I love him so much it makes me sick and mad. It’s almost too much for me, what I have to put up with, what with one thing and another.... Now go away, can’t you? I’ve told you, I’ve admitted it all to you; I can’t put it more plainly.”
“He’s good to you just as he’s good to me; he hasn’t a ha’pennyworth of feeling for you.”
“I know, Olver, I know; can’t you leave me alone? I’m not well, I tell you; it isn’t the moment to come baiting me.”
“There’s another woman he wanted....”
“You shan’t speak of her!” screamed Daisy.