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And it made no difference to her, and it made no difference to Jim. "I'll tell yo anoother quare thing. 'T' assn't got mooch t' do wi' good and baad. T' drink 'll nat drive it from yo, an' sin'll nat drive it from yo. Saw I raakon 't is mooch t' saame thing as t' graace o' Gawd." "Did the grace of God go away from you when you married, Jim?" "Mebbe t' would 'aave ef I'd roon aaffter it.
'Tis a tricky thing is Gawd's graace." "But it's gone," she said. "You gave your soul for Ally when you married her." He smiled. "I toald 'er I'd give my sawl t' marry 'er," he said. As she went home she tried to recapture the magic of the flowering thorn-trees. But it had gone and she could not be persuaded that it would come again.
"'Twas their dooty. "I feels that uneasy now," whined the sufferer, in a voice where fear spoke instead of hope, "but I s'pose 'tis a sign o' graace I should be?" "Iss, 'tis. I've comed to tell 'e the truth, for 'tis ill as a man should be blind to facts on what may be his last bed 'bove the airth.
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