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As if she had been his first-born, or his bride, he spoke to her in the thick, soft voice of passion, with pitiful, broken words and mutterings. "What is it, Daasy what is it? There, did they, then, did they? My beauty my lil laass. I I wuss a domned brute to forget tha, a domned brute." All that night and the next night he lay beside her.
She went by without seeing him, clenching her hands and carrying her young head high; and he saw that her eyes still held the tears that she was afraid to spill. Mrs. Gale stood behind her with a lamp, lighting her passage. "Who is that young lady?" he asked. "T' Vicar's laass, Gwanda." The woman leaned to him and whispered, "She's seen t' body."
All these objects impressed themselves on Ally's brain, adhering to its obsession and receiving from it an immense significance and importance. She heard Maggie's running feet, and the great leisurely steps of Greatorex, and his voice, soft and kind, encouraging Maggie. "Theer that's t' road. Gently, laass moor' 'aaste, less spead. Now t' tray an' a clane cloth t' woon wi' laace on 't.
Can you hold her?" "That I can. Coom oop, Daasy. Coom oop. There, my beauty. Gently, gently, owd laass." Rowcliffe took off his coat and shook up the drench and poured it into the pannikin, while Greatorex got the struggling mare on to her feet. Together, with gentleness and dexterity they cajoled her. Then Jim laid his hands upon her mouth and opened it, drawing up her head against his breast.
But Jim's moother that died, she wuss Choorch. And that slip of a laass, when John Greatorex coom courtin', she turned 'im. 'E was that soft wi' laasses. 'Er feyther 'e was steward to lord o' t' Manor and 'e was Choorch and all t' family saame as t' folk oop at Manor. Yo med say, Jim Greatorex, 'e's got naw religion. Neither Choorch nor Chapel 'e is. Nowt to coomfort 'im."
"Poor laass," Essy said to herself, "she looves to plaay. And Vicar, he'll not hold out mooch longer. He'll put foot down fore she gets trow." Through the screaming of the Polonaise Essy listened for the opening of the study door. The study door did not open all at once. "Wisdom and patience, wisdom and patience " The Vicar kept on muttering as he scowled.
Has anybody set fire to them?" "Tha silly laass! "What about the thorn-trees, Gwenda?" "Only that they're all in flower," Gwenda said. She didn't know where it had come from, the sudden impulse to tell Ally about the beauty of the thorn-trees. But the impulse had gone. She thought sadly, "They want me. But they don't want me for myself. They don't want to talk to me. They don't know what to say.
"Yo' wouldn' 'ave a good-fer-noothin' falla like mae, would yo, laass? Look yo' it's nat that I couldn' 'ave married yo'. I could 'ave married yo' right enoof. An' it's nat thot I dawn' think yo' pretty. Yo're pretty enoof fer me. It's it's I caan't rightly tall whot it is." "Dawn' tall mae. I dawn' want t' knaw." He looked hard at her. "I might marry yo' yat," he said.
The young man's right arm threw him off; his left arm remained round Alice. "It's yo' s'all nat tooch her, Mr. Cartaret," he said. "Ef yo' coom between her an' mae I s'all 'ave t' kill yo'. I'd think nowt of it. Dawn't yo' bae freetened, my laass," he murmured tenderly. The next instant he was fierce again. "An' look yo' 'ere, Mr. Cartaret. It was yo' who aassked mae t' marry Assy.
"There's more than mae and Assy thot's freetened t' marry yo," she said. He darkened. "Yo 'oald yore tongue. Yo dawn't knaw what yo're saayin', my laass." "Dawn't I? There's more than mae thot knaws, Mr. Greatorex. Assy isn't t' awnly woon yo've maade talk o' t' plaace." "What do yo mane? Speaak oop. What d'yo mane Yo knaw?" "Yo'd best aassk Naddy.
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