"You do not know them, Mr. Trotter," she said forlornly.
"And they'd kick you out without giving you a chance to prove to them that he is a filthy liar and—"
"Just as Mr. Carpenter kicked you out," she said.
"By gad, I—I wouldn't stay in their house another day if I were you," he exclaimed wrathfully. "I'd quit so quickly they wouldn't have time to—"
"And then what?" she asked bitterly. "Am I so rich and independent as all that? You forget that I must have a 'character,' Mr. Trotter. That, you see, would be denied me. I could not obtain employment. Even Mrs. Sparflight would be powerless to help me after the character they would give me."
"But, good Lord, you—you're not going to stay on in the house with that da—that nasty brute, are you?" he cried, aghast.
"I must have time to think, Mr. Trotter," she said quietly. "Now, don't say anything more,—please! I shall take good care of myself, never fear. My woes are small compared to yours, I am afraid. The next morning after our little scene in the park, he came down to breakfast, smiling and triumphant. He said he had news for me. Mr. Carpenter was to dismiss you that morning, but had agreed not to prefer charges against you,—at least, not for the present." She paused to moisten her lips. There was a harassed look in her eyes.
"Charges?" said Trotter, after a moment. The other men leaned forward, fresh interest in their faces.
"Did you say charges. Miss Emsdale?" asked Mr. Bramble, putting his hand to his ear.
