according to Toyner's new notions, was the more reason for counting him
a friend, not the less.

"Well, I grant 'tain't a very grand sort of business being constable,"
he said; "to be a preacher 'ud be finer perhaps; but this came to hand
and seemed the thing for me to do. It ain't kicking men in the mire to
do all you can to stop them making beasts of themselves."

He stood idling in the moonlight as he justified himself to this woman.
Surely it was only standing by his new colours to try to make his
position seem right to her. He had no hope in it--no hope of persuading
her, least of all of bringing her nearer to him; if he had had that, his
dallying would have seemed sinful, because it would have chimed so
perfectly with all his natural desires.

Ann took up her theme again fiercely. "Look here, Bart Toyner; I want to
know one thing, honour bright--that is," scornfully, "if you care about
honour now that you've got religion."

He gave a silent sarcastic smile, such as one would bestow upon a
naughty, ignorant child. "Well, at least as much as I did before," he
said.

"Well, then, I want to know if you're a-going to stop spying on me now
that father has got well off? There ain't no cause nor reason for you to
hang about me any longer. You know what my life has been, and you know
that through it all I've kept myself like a lady. It ain't nice, knowing
as people do that you came courting once, 'tain't nice to have you
hanging round in this way."