“First and last and always,” answered William.  “And hell knows I don’t get my share.”

“Money comes first and Milly Bassett second—­that would be a fair way to put it?” asked Jonas.

Well, White thought a minute before he replied.  “When you say ‘Milly,’” he began, “you touch a delicate subject, and I ain’t none too sure if I didn’t ought to tell you to shut your mouth.  But still, I don’t deny but that’s about the size of it.  Me and Milly have been tokened very near three years, and perfect love, Jo, on them terms may cast out fear and a lot else, but it don’t get you no forwarder—­quite the contrary.  Love don’t keep for ever, more than a leg of mutton will, and sometimes it comes across me it may go a bit stale, if not actually bad.  I fear nought myself, of course, because Milly’s a woman of her word and knows no changing; but that cuts both ways and, while she’s so firm as a rock about my wages and in a manner of speaking puts money before love, then I sometimes wonder who could blame me for doing the same.  We’m very good friends, and she’ll be a damned fine wife, no doubt—­when I get her; but, meantime, things run a little on the cool side and I can’t pretend I feel so furious set in that quarter as I did three year agone.  She ain’t the only pebble on the beach, to say it kindly, though a most amazing wonder and well worth waiting for in reason.  But there’s others—­not a few very comely creatures as would reckon me along with three ten a week quite good enough.  I can’t hide that from myself.”

Well, this was meat and drink to Jonas, but he hid his heart for the present, though his great excitement made his voice run up till it broke and he had to begin again—­a thing that happened to him sometimes.

“That being so,” he said, “that being so, Bill, how would you feel if anybody was to say:  ’Here’s good money for changing your future career, if you ain’t too addicted to Milly Bassett to take it?’”

“Money for her?” asked William.

“Money enough to turn your affections into another quarter and let her go free.”

“God’s truth, Jo!  You’ve gone and loved her!” shouted William.

“No,” answered the carpenter.  “By this hand I have not, Bill.  I’m not one to love any created woman as be tokened to another man and well you know it.  To do so would be a wicked thing.  But this I may tell you open and honest:  if Milly were a free woman, then I should love her instanter.”

“Dammy, Jo!  You want to buy her!” said William.

But Jonas shook his head.

“I reverence the woman far, far too much to want any such thing,” he said.  “You can’t buy and sell females in a Christian land; but this I’ll say, if you can honestly feel that a good dollop of money would recompense you for losing Milly, things being as they are, then I’m your man.  Of course if you feel money’s dross before the thought of her, then I shall well understand and we won’t touch the subject no more.  And, in any case, never a breath must get to her ears else she’d leave my house like a whirlwind, and quite right to do so.  But if you feel that you could make shift with another fine woman and might tear yourself away from Milly Bassett for a bit in the bank—­if you feel that, William, and only so, then we can go on talking.”