‘Not one?’
‘Well! Perhaps one,’ said Bella. ‘I am sure I don’t know. I had one, but what he may think about it at the present time I can’t say. Perhaps I have half a one (of course I don’t count that Idiot, George Sampson). However, never mind me. I want to hear about you.’
‘There is a certain man,’ said Lizzie, ‘a passionate and angry man, who says he loves me, and who I must believe does love me. He is the friend of my brother. I shrank from him within myself when my brother first brought him to me; but the last time I saw him he terrified me more than I can say.’ There she stopped.
‘Did you come here to escape from him, Lizzie?’
‘I came here immediately after he so alarmed me.’
‘Are you afraid of him here?’
‘I am not timid generally, but I am always afraid of him. I am afraid to see a newspaper, or to hear a word spoken of what is done in London, lest he should have done some violence.’
‘Then you are not afraid of him for yourself, dear?’ said Bella, after pondering on the words.
‘I should be even that, if I met him about here. I look round for him always, as I pass to and fro at night.’
‘Are you afraid of anything he may do to himself in London, my dear?’