“Well? Why are you stopping? What have you got to say?”
The words come from a dry throat; the effort to pronounce them clearly made the last all but violent.
“On Friday night,” Sidney resumed, his own utterance uncertain, “Clara left her place. She took a room not far from Upper Street, and I saw her, spoke to her. She’d quarrelled with Mrs. Tubbs. I urged her to come home, but she wouldn’t listen to me. This morning I’ve been to try and see her again, but they tell me she went away yesterday afternoon. I can’t find where she’s living now.”
Hewett took a step forward. His face was so distorted, so fierce, that Sidney involuntarily raised an arm, as if to defend himself.
“An’ it’s you as comes tellin’ me this!” John exclaimed, a note of anguish blending with his fury. “You have the face to stand there an’ speak like that to me, when you know it’s all your own doing! Who was the cause as the girl went away from ’ome? Who was it, I say? Haven’t been as friendly as we
