“Not on any account.”
“If it were to get to Mrs. Pratt’s ears—”
“It won’t. Now tell me, Gladys.”
“If you’re sure it’s all right?”
“Of course it is. You’ll be glad some day you’ve saved me from being hanged.”
Gladys gave a little shriek.
“Oh! Indeed, I wouldn’t like that, sir. Well, it’s very little I heard—and that entirely by accident as you might say—”
“I quite understand.”
“But the master, he was evidently very angry. ‘After all these years’—that’s what he was saying—‘you dare to come here—’ ‘It’s an outrage—’ I couldn’t hear what the lady said—but after a bit he said, ‘I utterly refuse—utterly—’ I can’t remember everything—seemed as though they were at it hammer and tongs, she wanting him to do something and he refusing. ‘It’s a disgrace that you should have come down here,’ that’s one thing he said. And ‘You shall not see her—I forbid it—’ and that made me prick up my ears. Looked as though the lady wanted to tell Mrs. Protheroe a thing or two, and he was afraid about it. And I thought to myself, ‘Well, now, fancy the master. Him so particular. And maybe no beauty himself when all’s said and done. Fancy!’ I said. And ‘Men are all alike,’ I said to my friend later. Not that he’d agree. Argued, he did. But he did admit he was surprised at Colonel Protheroe—him being a churchwarden and handing round the plate and reading the lessons on Sundays. ‘But there,’ I said, ‘that’s very often the worst.’ For that’s what I’ve heard my mother say, many a time.”