“Not as Ah know on, ther’ isna.”
He had lapsed into the vernacular. Connie hesitated; he was putting up an opposition. Was it his hut, after all?
“Couldn’t we get another key?” she asked in her soft voice, that underneath had the ring of a woman determined to get her way.
“Another!” he said, glancing at her with a flash of anger, touched with derision.
“Yes, a duplicate,” she said, flushing.
“ ’Appen Sir Clifford ’ud know,” he said, putting her off.
“Yes!” she said, “he might have another. Otherwise we could have one made from the one you have. It would only take a day or so, I suppose. You could spare your key for so