only throw a little more decision into her voice as she said:
'No, indeed, Mr. Godfrey, that's not known to me, and I have very good reasons for thinking different. But if it's true, I don't wish to hear it.'
'Would you never forgive me, then, Nancy—never think well of me, let what would happen—would you never think the present made amends for the past? Not if I turned a good fellow, and gave up everything you didn't like?'
Godfrey was half conscious that this sudden opportunity of speaking to Nancy alone had driven him beside himself; but blind feeling had got the mastery of his tongue. Nancy really felt much agitated by the possibility Godfrey's words suggested, but this very pressure of emotion that she was in danger of finding too strong for her, roused all her power of self-command.
'I should be glad to see a good change in anybody, Mr. Godfrey,' she answered, with the slightest discernible difference of tone, 'but it 'ud be better if no change was wanted.'
'You're very hard-hearted, Nancy,'said Godfrey, pettishly. 'You might encourage me to be a better fellow. I'm very miserable—but you've no feeling.'
'I think those have the least feeling that act wrong to begin with,' said Nancy, sending out a flash in spite of herself. Godfrey was delighted with that little flash, and would have liked to go on and make her quarrel with him; Nancy was so exasperatingly quiet and firm. But she was not indifferent to him yet, though—
