She turned and looked at him. “Am I?” she asked, impassively; and she went on studying his face. “Who are ye, Joe Smith? What are ye doin’ here?” “Working in a coal-mine,” he laughed, still trying to divert her. But she went on, as gravely as before. “Ye’re no working man, that I know. And ye’re always offering me help! Ye’re always sayin’ what ye can do for me!” She paused and there came some of the old defiance into her face. “Joe, ye can have no idea of the feelin’s that have got hold of me just now. I’m ready to do something desperate; ye’d best be leavin’ me alone, Joe!” “I think I understand, Mary. I would hardly blame you for anything you did.” She took up his words eagerly. “Wouldn’t ye, Joe? Ye’re sure? Then what I want is to get the truth from ye. I want ye to talk it out fair!” “All right, Mary. What is it?” But her defiance had vanished suddenly. Her eyes dropped, and he saw her fingers picking nervously at a fold of her dress. “About us, Joe,” she said. “I’ve thought sometimes ye cared for me. I’ve thought ye liked to be with me--not just because ye were sorry for me, but because of _me_. I’ve not been sure, but I can’t help thinkin’ it’s so. Is it?” “Yes, it is,” he said, a little uncertainly. “I _do_ care for you.” “Then is it that ye don’t care for that other girl all the time?” “No,” he said, “it’s not that.” “Ye can care for two girls at the same time?” He did not know what to say. “It would seem that I can, Mary.” She raised her eyes again and studied his face. “Ye told me about that other girl, and I been wonderin’, was it only to put me off? Maybe it’s me own fault, but I can’t make meself believe in that other girl, Joe!” “You’re mistaken, Mary,” he answered, quickly. “What I told you was true.” “Well, maybe so,” she said, but there was no conviction in her tone. “Ye come away from her, and ye never go where she is or see her--it’s hard to believe ye’d do that way if ye were very close to her. I just don’t think ye love her as much as ye might. And ye say you do care some for me. So I’ve thought--I’ve wondered--” She stopped, forcing herself to meet his gaze: “I been tryin’ to work it out! I know ye’re too good a man for me, Joe. Ye come from a better place in life, ye’ve a right to expect more in a woman--” “It’s not that, Mary!” But she cut him short. “I know that’s true! Ye’re only tryin’ to save my feelin’s. I know ye’re better than me! I’ve tried hard to hold me head up, I’ve tried a long time not to let meself go to pieces. I’ve even tried to keep cheerful, telling meself I’d not want to be like Mrs. Zamboni, forever complainin’. But ’tis no use tellin’ yourself lies! I been up to the church, and heard the Reverend Spragg tell the people that the rich and poor are the same in the sight of the Lord. And maybe ’tis so, but I’m not the Lord, and I’ll never pretend I’m not ashamed to be livin’ in a place like this.” “I’m sure the Lord has no interest in keeping you here--” he began.