there roaring and raging, trying to make you believe you have outraged them?"
"All but young Mr. Probert. Certainly they don't like it."
"The cowards!" said George Flack. "And where was young Mr. Probert?"
"He was away—I've told you—in America."
"Ah, yes, your father told me. But now he has come back doesn't he like it either?"
"I don't know, Mr. Flack," Francie replied, impatiently.
"Well, I do, then. He's a coward too—he'll do what his papa tells him—and the countess and the duchess and all the rest: he'll just back down—he'll give you up."
"I can't talk to you about that," said Francie.
"Why not? why is he such a sacred subject, when we are together? You can't alter that. It was too lovely, your standing up for me—your not denying me!"
"You put in things I never said. It seems to me it was very different," the girl remarked.
"Everything is different when it's printed. What else would be the good of papers? Besides, it wasn't I; it was a lady who helps me here—you've heard me speak of her: Miss Topping. She wants so much to know you—she wants to talk with you."
"And will she publish that?" Francie asked, gravely.
