a mind to say 'Eggs' to 'en, it so annoyed me."
"I hope you didn't."
"No. 'Twould have seemed like bearin' malice. 'Tis an old tale, after all, that feat of his."
"Nine an' thirty year, come seventeenth o' September next. Did he say any more?"
"Said the weather-glass was risin', but too fast to put faith in."
"I mean, did he ask any more about me?"
"Iss: wanted to know if you was married. I reckon he meant that for a bit o' pleasantness."
"Not that! Ah, not that!"
Job laid down knife and fork with their points resting on the rim of his plate, and, with a lump of pasty in one cheek, looked at his sister. She had pushed back her chair a bit, and her fingers were plucking the edge of the table-cloth.
"Not that!" she repeated once more, and hardly above a whisper. She did not lift her eyes. Before Job could speak--
"He was my lover," she said, and shivered.
"Mar--ty--"
She looked up now, hardened her ugly,
