of
it.

"Last Friday, my lady. Not to-day by any means--and not Manninglea
Cross. Issued at Rodchurch Road o' Friday last--the day you come up to
London."

"Yes, Will, I won't pretend any more."

She had put her arms round his legs and lifted herself to a kneeling
position. "I _did_ come Friday. But don't be angry with me. Don't fly
out at me, and I--I'll explain everything."

"May I make so bold 's t'a' ask _why_ you come, without my permission
begged for nor given?"

His voice was terrible to hear, so deep and yet so harsh, and
vibrating with such implacable wrath.

"Will, I did it for your sake. I thought if I asked permission, you'd
say no. So I dared to do it myself--feeling certain as life that you
were done for if no help came--and I thought it was my duty to bring
you the help if I could."

"Go on. I'm listening, an' I'm thinking all the time."

"I thought--Auntie thought so too--she advised it--that Mr. Barradine
knowing me so long, ever since I was a girl, if I went direct to
him--"

"Ah!" And he made a loud guttural noise, as if on the point of
choking. "Ah--so's I supposed. Then I got a bull's-eye with my first
thought to-night. So you went to him. Where?"

"At his house."

"Yes, right into his house. By yourself?"

"Yes."

"You didn't think to bring your aunt with you. Two was to be comp'ny
at Mr. Barradine's. So in you go--alone--without my leave--behind my
back."

"Will--remember yourself, my dear one. You won't blame, you can't
blame me. But for him, you were done for. All could see it, except
you. I asked for his help, and I got it."

"But your next move! We're talking about Friday, aren't we? Well,
after you'd bin to Mr. Barradine, what next?"

"Then I hoped he'd help us."

"Yes, but Friday, Saturday, Sunday? Had yer forgotten my address--or
didn' 'aarpen to remember that _I_ was in London, too?"

"I was afraid of your being angry. I thought I'd better wait."

"_Where_?"

She looked up at him, but did not answer.

"You've played me false. You've sold yourself to that fornicating old
devil. You--"

And with a roar he burst into imprecations, blasphemies and
obscenities. It was the string of foul words that, under a sufficient
impetus, infallibly comes rolling from the peasant's tongue--an
explosion as natural as when a thunderbolt scatters a muck-heap at the
roadside.

Then, snarling and growling like an animal, he stooped and cuffed her.

"Will!" "Will!" She repeated