'Are you comin', Liza?' Jim said to her.
'No,' she answered. 'I didn't know you was goin'.'
'I wish you was comin',' he replied, 'we shall 'ave a game.'
She could only just keep back the sobs; she so wished she were going. It did seem hard that she must remain behind; and all because she wasn't going to marry Tom. After all, she didn't see why that should prevent her; there really was no need to refuse for that. She began to think she had acted foolishly: it didn't do anyone any good that she refused to go out with Tom, and no one thought it anything specially fine that she should renounce her pleasure. Sally merely thought her a fool.
Tom was standing by her side, silent, and looking disappointed and rather unhappy. Jim said to her, in a low voice:
'I am sorry you're not comin'!'
It was too much. She did want to go so badly, and she really couldn't resist any longer. If Tom would only ask her once more, and if she could only change her mind reasonably and decently, she would accept; but he stood silent, and she had to speak herself. It was very undignified.
'Yer know, Tom.' she said, 'I don't want ter spoil your day.'
'Well, I don't think I shall go alone; it 'ud be so precious slow.'
Supposing he didn't ask her again! What should she do? She looked up at the clock on the front of the pub, and noticed that it only wanted five minutes to the half-hour. How terrible it would be if the brake started and he didn't ask her! Her heart beat violently against her chest, and in her agitation she fumbled with the corner of her apron.