They met Martin rolling to his home. When they told him, he screwed a chuckle out of himself and squeezed his eyes up tight. "Onsettled," he said, "onsettled. I seen it a-coming on. Thinks I to myself, I thinks, when I sees him coming in in the morning: 'Brewing up for trouble, you are, young man; but whether it'll be Glory to God or Down with them as pays wages, or what, I don't know.' I was going to say he'd better have a holiday, and now he's snoofed it." "He'll come back," said Ann. "Don't you go counting on that, my pretty. He ain't our class, and never could be. You've only to see him drink to know that. If he was our class he'd be worse'n the rest of us. Don't you go counting on that." "He'll come back. He ain't a sneak." "When it comes to women," said Martin, "any man's neither more nor less than what he can be. But if you find it lonely waiting you can come and sit with me. I ain't a-going to see you let down, my pretty, not for want of money or a helping hand. If your heart's set on him, I can't do nothing there; but, Lor' bless you, hearts ain't everything." "Good for you, Mr. Martin," said Kilner. "Oh, I know a thing or two." The fat man winked. "You don't have to do with 'orses for nothing. I had a 'orse once took a uncommon fancy to a goat there was in the mews. Had to see it every day. The goat was sold, and that there 'orse pined away. I kept on a-telling of him that no goat in the world was worth losing a feed of oats for, and at last he got so precious hungry he believed it, and I never did see a 'orse so glad to eat. Fancies come and go, but your belly lets you know it's there till you die. Will you come in, too, Mr. Kilner?" "No, thanks. I must get to bed early. Work in the morning." When Kilner had gone, old Martin said to Ann with an affectionate touch on her arm: "That young man has a 'ead screwed on his shoulders." "He's all head," said Ann, "and I hate him." "Lor'! There's talking. How women do like to make a man wriggle. I never was much in the wriggling line myself, not being the build for it. But a 'ead's worth having, too. I never had much 'ead myself. Too affectionate myself. What a pretty little thing you was, to be sure. Feeling it bad, my pretty?" "Hellish bad," replied Ann. "There, there." "I never thought I'd feel anything so bad. I want to hate him, but I can't. I do hate that Kilner. I'd like to see him dead." "There, there. 'Orses has wunnerful strong dislikes, too." Ann said: "It's enough to make a woman scream, the way men talk." Old Martin's huge face expanded in astonishment. He reached out his hand for a pipe, filled it, conveyed it to his mouth, and sank into a brooding silence. He broke it at length to say: "Women has a great scorn o' men, and I don't know but what they deserve it."