“Were you in love with him?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t hardly help laughing at the things he said. And there was something about him — he said I’d never regret it, he promised to give me seven pounds a week — he said he was earning fifteen, and it was all a lie, he wasn’t. And then I was sick of going to the shop every morning, and I wasn’t getting on very well with my aunt; she wanted to treat me as a servant instead of a relation, said I ought to do my own room, and if I didn’t do it nobody was going to do it for me. Oh, I wish I hadn’t. But when he came to the shop and asked me I felt I couldn’t help it.”