“I thought, perhaps, in spite of all—of all the misfortune at your birth—you might be a gentleman at heart. But I was mistaken, and you are the very farthest from it; and I see now that it’s impossible ever to hope to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”
“Thank you, for my father. My mother can answer for herself. The pillmaker’s granddaughter is the best judge, of course.”
“Let me pass, please.”
“Not just for a minute. What did you mean by the misfortune at my birth?”
She was still white with fury.
“Don’t you know? Don’t you know that you’ve no right to a name at all? You might have guessed, I think.”
“How do you know?”
“I know well enough. I once heard Mr Pugsley say so to Lady Skene, when they were discussing what to do with you, and didn’t guess that I was hidden behind the curtains. I have never forgotten it, you may be sure.”
“I am quite sure. You listened behind curtains like a born lady. Do you wonder that I have always instinctively detested you?”
“No; I have shown you I don’t.”