If he was asleep, then she much regretted that she must wake him up. I shall make no defence. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. She cocked her head. If you will think only of one trifling aspect—the inconvenience it must be to us to explain your absence—I think you may begin to realize what it all means for us.
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