Leonora was astonished at the mutinous desperation in Ethel's tone. It left her at a loss.
'I shall have to tell your father,' she said sadly.
'Well, of course, mother,' Ethel managed her voice carefully. 'You tell him everything.'
'No, I don't, my dear,' Leonora denied the charge like a girl. 'A week last night I heard Fred Ryley talking to you at your window. And I have said nothing.'
Ethel flushed hotly at this disclosure.
'Then why say anything now?' she murmured, half daunted and half daring.
'Your father must know. I ought to have told him before. But I have been wondering how best to act.'
'What's the matter with Fred, mother?' Ethel demanded, with a catch in her throat.
'That isn't the point, Ethel. Your father has distinctly said that he won't permit any'—she stopped because she could not bring herself to say the words; and then continued: 'If he had the slightest suspicion that there was anything between you and Fred Ryley he would never have allowed you to go to the works at all.'
'Allowed me to go! I like that, mother! As if I wanted to go to the works! I simply hate the place—father knows that. And yet—and yet——' She almost wept.