When she reached home, Liz was still sitting as she had left her, and she looked up tearful and impatient.
"Well?" she said.
"He has th' money," was Joan's answer, "an' he ha' shown me as he is a villain."
She came and stood near the girl, a strong emotion in her half pitying, half appealing look.
"Lizzie, lass!" she said. "Tha mun listen to me,—tha mun. Tha mun mak' me a promise before tha tak's thy choild upo' thy breast to-neet."
"I dunnot care," protested Liz, weeping fretfully. "I dunnot care what I do. It's aw as bad as ivver now. I dunnot care for nowt. Ivverybody's at me—noan on yo' will let me a-be. What wi' first one an' then another I'm a'most drove wild."
"God help thee!" said Joan with a heavy sigh. "I dunnot mean to be hard, lass, but yo' mun promise me. It is na mich, Lizzie, if—if things is na worse wi' yo' than I would ivver believe. Yo're safe so far: promise me as yo' will na run i' danger—promise me as yo' will na see that man again, that yo'll keep out o' his way till he leaves Riggan."
"I'll promise owt," cried Liz. "I dunnot care, I tell yo', I'll promise owt yo'll ax, if yo'll let me a-be," and she hid her face upon her arms and wept aloud.
