“Tha’rt real, tha art! Tha’rt real, even a bit of a bitch. Here tha shits an’ here tha pisses: an’ I lay my hand on ’em both an’ like thee for it. I like thee for it. Tha’s got a proper, woman’s arse, proud of itself. It’s none ashamed of itself, this isna.”

He laid his hand close and firm over her secret places, in a kind of close greeting.

“I like it,” he said. “I like it! An’ if I only lived ten minutes, an’ stroked thy arse an’ got to know it, I should reckon I’d lived one life, sees ter! Industrial system or not! Here’s one o’ my lifetimes.”

She turned round and climbed into his lap, clinging to him. “Kiss me!” she whispered.

And she knew the thought of their separation was latent in both their minds, and at last she was sad.