"What could I do? There was that poor young thing beaten into welts by an old hag—was threatened even worse things. I brought her here simply to save her skin. The child had to come too. Then my housekeeper got wild, talked about my criminal actions to the world in general, and left me. Next thing Chard and the minister from Mistwell came and insulted me—ordered me to put the girl out—or marry her. Would you have been baited by them? Then that affair last night—a bunch of rowdies—would any decent fellow submit to their bullying?"
"It is true that your position has been frightfully difficult. You must not think, my dear fellow, that I am insensible to that. What I have come for this morning is to help you, if possible, to a better understanding with yourself, and with those who hold your friendship as something very dear."
"Do you mean the Jerrolds?"
"Yes, and myself, of course."
"Have you spoken of this to them?"
"Mr. Jerrold and I have talked it over. He is laid up with lumbago, you know. I should have shunned the subject with Miss Jerrold, but she brought it up herself as I was leaving yesterday."
Derek picked up the china greyhound and turned it in his hand, waiting for the Vicar to go on.
"She was very much upset," said Mr. Ramsey, in a low voice.
"Yes. I suppose she would be. I suppose she'll never want to speak to me again, eh?" His hand shook a little as he carefully set the dog on the oval mark its base had made in the dust film on the mantelpiece.
"I shouldn't like to think that. I do think that she has every hope that you will make what restitution you can."
Vale stared at him uncomprehending, and the Vicar went
