“Yes—and termorrer you’ll have east winds and wet to bring out yer rheumattics, leastways my rheumattics, beggin’ pardon.”
“Come along; I’m sure you’re hungry, Marian, everybody always is here. And Mrs. Witchout, you just be off! We’ll look after ourselves and won’t make your life a burden to you.”
“I’ll go when I’m ready, Mr. Maddison, not afore.”
“There, Marian, what did I tell you? You see what you can do.”
“Don’t show him up my first day here, Mrs. Witchout; let him have his way, for once!”
“For once! They always do say it’s your own fam’ly who knows least about yer! For once! He always do ’ave it.”
So saying, Mrs. Witchout hustled from the room with a pretense of anger that was transparent.
“At last!”
Maddison strode across the room, laid his hands on Marian’s shoulders, holding her at arm’s length while he gazed at her. Then he drew her close to him, feverishly kissing her again and again, kissing her lips, her hair, her eyes.
“Haven’t you a kiss for me, Marian?”