“What right have you to speak like that to me?” said Hilda.
“Right! What right ha’ yo’ ter start harnessin’ other folks i’ your continuity? Leave folks to their own continuities.”
“My dear man, do you think I am concerned with you?” said Hilda softly.
“Ay,” he said. “Yo’ are. For it’s a force-put. Yo’ more or less my sister-in-law.”
“Still far from it, I assure you.”
“Not a’ that far, I assure you . I’ve got my own sort o’ continuity, back your life! Good as yours, any day. An’ if your sister there comes ter me for a bit o’ cunt an’ tenderness, she knows what she’s after. She’s been in my bed afore: which you ’aven’t, thank the Lord, with your continuity.” There was a dead pause, before he added: “—Eh, I don’t wear me breeches arse-forrards. An’ if I get a windfall, I thank my stars. A man gets a lot of enjoyment out o’ that lass theer, which is more than anybody gets out o’ th’ likes o’ you. Which is a pity, for you might ’appen a’ bin a good apple, ’stead of a handsome crab. Women like you needs proper graftin’.”
He was looking at her with an odd, flickering smile, faintly sensual and appreciative.
“And men like you,” she said, “ought to be segregated: justifying their own vulgarity and selfish lust.”
“Ay, ma’am! It’s a mercy there’s a few men left like me. But you deserve what you get: to be left severely alone.”