Bantam had given him one, invented, apparently, and propagated by Stephen. And it shook him like a blow. That poor girl⁠—as good as gold, so far as he knew⁠—should be slandered and vilified in death by the one man who should have taken care at least to keep her name clean. A fierce note of scorn and disgust broke involuntarily from him.

“Coming, sir,” cried Mrs. Bantam, hurrying in with the almost imperceptible bustle of a swan pressed for time. “And it’s sorry I am it’s only a couple of cutlets I’m giving you, brown and nice as they are, but could I get steak at the butcher’s today? Not if I was the King of Spain, sir, no, and the loin-chop that scraggy it was a regular piece of profiteering to have it in the shop, that it was, let alone sell it. Well, sir, as my poor hubby used to say, that young woman’s no better than she should be, and she’s come to a bad end.⁠ ⁠…”