He turned round and caught her hand. "Ay! it is, it is"--(brushing away the tears with the back of his hand).--"But yo' know, she's lying dead at home; and I'm welly dazed wi' sorrow, and at times I hardly know what I'm saying. It's as if speeches folk ha' made--clever and smart things as I've thought at the time--come up now my heart's welly brossen. Th' strike's failed as well; dun yo' know that, miss? I were coming whoam to ask her, like a beggar as I am, for a bit o' comfort i' that trouble; and I were knocked down by one who telled me she were dead--just dead. That were all; but that were enough for me."

He turned round and caught her hand. 'Ay! it is, it is - (brushing away tears with the back of his hand). 'But yo' know, she's lying dead at home and I'm dazed wi' sorrow, and hardly know what I'm saying. Th' strike's failed as well; dun yo' know that, miss? I were coming home to ask for a bit o' comfort i' that trouble; and I were knocked down by one who telled me she were dead.'
