He did not care what impression he made on her or how he entangled himself. He only thought of one thing. "Tell me what he says and what he does," he repeated, "and I'll give it to you." Janey rose from her stool in such a hurry that it lost its balance and fell over. "I--I dunnot want it!" she cried. "I dunnot want it. I can na mak' thee out!" "You're not as sharp as I took you for, if you don't want it," he answered. "You'll not earn another as easy, my lass." Only stern common sense rescued her from the weakness of backing out of the room into the next apartment. "I dunnot know what tha'rt drivin' at," she said. "I tell thee--I dunnot know nowt." "Does he never say," he put it to her, "that he's been there--and that he's seen her--and that she's sat and talked--and that he's looked at her--and listened--and thought over it afterward?" This was the last straw. Bewilderment turned to contempt. "_That_ would na be worth ten shillin'," she said. "Tha knows he's been theer, an' tha knows he's seen her, an' tha knows he could na see her wi'out lookin' at her. I dunnot see as theer's owt i' lookin' at her, or i' listenin' neyther. Wheer's th' use o' givin ten shillin' to hear summat yo' know yo'rsen? There's nowt i' that!" "Has he ever said it?" he persisted. "No," she answered, "he has na. He nivver wur much give ter talk, an' he says less than ivver i' these days." "Has he never said that she treated him well, and--was easier to please than he'd thought; has he never said nowt like that?" "Nay, that he has na!" with vigor. "Nowt o' th' soart." He got up as unceremoniously and abruptly as he had sat down. "I was an accursed fool for coming," she heard him mutter. He threw the half-sovereign toward her, and it fell on the floor. "Art tha goin' to gi' it me?" she asked. "Yes," he answered, and he strode through the door-way into the darkness, leaving her staring at it. She went to the fire and, bending down, examined it closely and rubbed it with a corner of her apron. Then she tried its ring upon the flagged floor. "Aye," she said, "it's a good un, sure enow! It's a good un!" She had quite lost her breath. She sat down upon her stool again, forgetting the memoirs altogether. "I nivver heard so mich doment made over nowt i' aw my days," she said. "I conna see now what he wur up to, axin' questions as if he wur i' drink. He mun ha' been i' drink or he'd nivver ha' gi'en it to me." And on the mother's return she explained the affair to her upon this sound and common-sense basis. "Mester Haworth's been here," she said, "an' he wur i' drink an' give me ten shillin'. I could na mak' out what he wur drivin' at. He wur askin' questions as put me out o' patience. Eh! what foo's men is when they've getten too much."