Ruth. Ay, Smailey, it’s Ruth Tredgett.
Mr. S. (very confused). I did not know whom I was speaking to.
Ruth. But you knowed what you was speakin’ to, Jonas Smailey. Go on. I’m kinder curous to hear what you’ve got to say about a woman o’ my stamp. I’m kinder curous to hear wot Jonas Smailey’s got to say about his own work.
Mr. S. We meet in a strange way after so many years.
Ruth. Yes; we do meet in a strange way. Seems to me it’s suthin’ of a topsy-turvy way. But it’s a topsy-turvy world, ain’t it?
Mr. S. (recovering himself with bland dignity). I have no desire to press hardly on any fellow-creature——
Ruth. (quietly). Come, that’s kind, anyhow.
Mr. S. Perhaps, after all, you were not entirely to blame.
Ruth. Well, p’raps not.
Mr. S. Perhaps I myself was not altogether without reproach in the matter. But in my case allowance should, in common charity, be made for follies that arise from extreme youth and—and inexperience. I was barely forty then.