shoulder. . . . There was thunder in the air.
Delight's feet were swollen from being constantly on them the day before. She did not feel like taking a walk and he was content to sit with her here. There was no peace of mind for him in walking out with her, because of the peering of the men they passed, and the feeling that someone was always following them. The thought of being followed may have been only Jimmy's imagination, for things had got sadly on his nerves of late. He dreamed at nights as he had never been wont to do—strange dreams of terrible things befalling Delight. He was getting nervous in his work, too. He would think: "What if I fell into one of those vats now and was suffocated! There'd be no one left to look after my girl." His square face, with its short nose and stubborn mouth, had taken on a troubled look, and he carried his compact strong body with an air of nervous aggression.
"Oh, marry me, Delight, and let's have done with all this," he implored, patting her shoulder. "Whatever makes you so mulish-like, my darling? You'd not have to work half so hard, just doing for us two, and all these chaps 'ud quit harrying you."
"Mr. Mayberry, the tailor, proposed to me today," she said gently.
"Mayberry, the tailor!" he exclaimed loudly and angrily.
"Don't shout, Jimmy." She laid her finger against his lips.
"Yes, but that old dud! He's bow-legged from sitting cross-legged. How did he get near you in the daytime? What's Mrs. Bye thinking about to let him into the kitchen? Has she no sense?"
"He didn't see me. He wrote a nice little letter to me, on pink paper—"
