Turned away I am, sure enough. Twentyfive years. And in a minute it's broke. Wi' two words.
Janet. You say that now because your heart's cold with the trouble. But it'll warm again — it'll warm again. I'll warm it out of my own heart, Martin -my heart that can't be made cold.
Martin. I'd rather ha' died than he turn me away. I'd ha' lost everything in the world to know that I was true to 'm like I was till you looked at me wi' the love in your face. It was a great love ye gave me -you in your grand hoose wi' your delicate ways. But it's broke me.
Janet. But — it's just the same with us. Just the same as ever it was.
Martin. Aye. But there's no mending, wi' the likes o' him.
Janet. What's there to mend? What's there to mend except what's bound you like a slave all the years? You're free-free for the first time since you were a lad mebbe. We'll begin again. We'll be happyhappy. You and me, free in the world! All the time that's been 'll be just like a dream that's past, a waiting time afore we found each other -the long winter afore the flowers come out white and thick on the moors Martin. Twenty-five years ago he took me. . . . It's too long to change. . . . I'll never do his work no more; but it's like as if he'd be my master just the same till I die —
Janet. Listen, Martin. Listen to me. You've worked all your life for him, ever since you were a little
