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"Will Maggie be there?" she said. "Ay, Maaggie'll be there, ready when yo want her." "But," she said, "I don't want her." He followed her look. "I'll 'ave it all claned oop and paapered and paainted.
There was an interrogative lilt at the end of all his sentences, even when, as now, he was making statements that admitted of no denial. But his guest missed the incontrovertible and final quality of what was said. "Please don't trouble." "It's naw trooble naw trooble at all. Maaggie'll 'ave got kettle on." He strode out of his parlor into his kitchen. "Maaggie! Maaggie!" he called.
Look yo I could have a hole knocked through t' back wall o' t' kitchen and a winder put there and roon oop a wooden partition and make a passage for yo t' goa to yore awn plaace, soa's Maaggie'll not bae in yore road." "You needn't. I like it best as it is." "Do yo? D'yo mind thot Soonda yo caame laasst year? Yo've aassked mae whan it was I started thinkin' of yo. It was than.
"It's a bit too early for me, thank yo'. Maaggie'll mak' me a coop by and bye." And she said to herself, "How beautifully he did it." He was indeed doing it beautifully all through. He watched her little fingers, and the very instant they had disposed of a morsel he offered her another. It was a deep and exquisite pleasure to him to observe her in that act of eating and drinking.
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