“A hundred pounds—a clear hundred! I have it here in my bodice. Would you refuse a hundred?”
He turned on his heel. She darted past him and tried to kick at the face of the prostrate man. Spring dragged her roughly away, before she could do him a mischief.
“Stand clear!” he cried, giving her a shake. “You should take shame to hit a fallen man.”
With a groan the injured man turned on his side. Then he slowly sat up and passed his wet hand over his face. Finally, he staggered to his feet.
“Well,” he said, shrugging his broad shoulders, “it was a fair fight. I’ve no complaint to make. I was Jackson’s favourite pupil, but I give you best.” Suddenly his eyes lit upon the furious face of the woman. “Hulloa, Betty!” he cried. “So I have you to thank. I might have guessed it when I had your letter.”
“Yes, my lord,” said she, with a mock curtsey. “You have me to thank. Your little wife managed it all. I lay behind those bushes, and I saw you beaten like a hound. You haven’t had all that I had planned for you, but I think it will be some little time before any woman loves you for the sake of your appearance. Do you remember the words, my lord? Do you remember the words?”
He stood stunned for a moment. Then he snatched his whip from the ground, and looked at her from under his heavy brows.
“I believe you’re the devil!” he cried.
“I wonder what the governess will think?” said she.
He flared into furious rage and rushed at her with his whip. Tom Spring threw himself before him with his arms out.