He smiled.
"Ay, sholl ter?" he repeated.
"Ay!" she said, imitating the dialect sound.
"Yi!" he said.
"Yi!" she repeated.
"An' slaip wi' me," he said, "It needs that. When sholt come?"
"When sholl I?" she said.
"Nay," he said, "tha canna do't. When sholt come then?"
"'Appen Sunday," she said.
"'Appen a' Sunday! Ay!"
He laughed at her quickly.
"Nay, tha canna," he protested.
"Why canna I?" she said.
He laughed. Her attempts at the dialect were so ludicrous, somehow.
"Coom then, tha mun goo!" he said.
"Mun I?" she said.
"Maun Ah!" he corrected.
"Why should I say maun when you said mun," she protested. "You're not playing fair."
"Arena Ah!" he said, leaning forward and softly stroking her face.
"Tha'rt good cunt, though, aren't ter? Best bit o' cunt left on earth. When ter likes! When tha'rt willin'!"
"What is cunt?" she said.
"An' doesn't ter know? Cunt! It's thee down theer; an' what I get when I'm i'side thee, and what tha gets when I'm i'side thee; it's a' as it is, all on't."
"All on't," she teased. "Cunt! It's like fuck then."
"Nay nay! Fuck's only what you do. Animals fuck. But cunt's a lot more than that. It's thee, dost see: an' tha'rt a lot beside an animal, aren't ter? even ter fuck! Cunt! Eh, that's the beauty o' thee, lass!"
She got up and kissed him between the eyes, that looked at her so dark and soft and unspeakably warm, so unbearably beautiful.
"Is it?" she said. "And do you care for me?"
He kissed her without answering.
"Tha mun goo, let me dust thee," he said.
