Ermyntrtide burst into a storm of threats; but they rang but half-hearted. The note of panic in her tone was deeper. She declared again and again that she would have the lor on Hilary Vance; then she burst into tears, genuine tears, at the vanishing of her glorious dream.
"I oughter 'ave compensytion, I ought. Look 'ow I've bin treated—myde a fool of by—the likes of 'im," she wailed.
"That's another matter," said Mr. James in a judicial tone. "You have forfeited any right to any compensation at all by the double-faced game you've been playing. But Mr. Vance did play the fool and he ought to pay for it. Therefore he will give you ten pounds toward your trousseau."
The words seemed words of solace, for the violence of Ermyntrude's grief began to abate, the color to flow back into her cheeks.
"It's not what I oughter have, but it's better than nothink," she said in a much less mournful voice.
Mr. James handed her two five-pound notes.
Ermyntrude took them with a haste that was very near a snatch, and moved with some speed toward the door. She turned the handle quickly, sniffed,
