the polish rider

Retty Priddle still looked, and the others looked again. ¡¡¡¡`There he is again!' cried Izz Huett, the pale girl with dark damp hair and keenly cut lips. ¡¡¡¡`You needn't say anything, Izz,' answered Retty. `For I zid you kissing his shade.' ¡¡¡¡`What did you see her doing?' asked Marian. ¡¡¡¡`Why - he was standing over the whey-tub to let off the whey, and the shade of his face came upon the wall behind, close to Izz, who was standing there filling a vat. She put her mouth against the wall and kissed the shade of his mouth; I zid her, though he didn't.' ¡¡¡¡`O Izz Huett!' said Marian. ¡¡¡¡A rosy spot came into the middle of Izz Huett's cheek. ¡¡¡¡`Well, there was no harm in it,' she declared, with attempted coolness. `And if I be in love wi'en, so is Retty, too; and so be you, Marian, come to that.' ¡¡¡¡Marian's full face could not blush past its chronic pinkness. ¡¡¡¡`I!' she said. `What a tale! Ah, there he is again! Dear eyes - dear face - dear Mr Clare!'