“That’s what I’m asking you. Something happened to cause the unpleasantness between Mrs. Woolley and yourself, and I’ve a very shrewd suspicion that I know what it was.”
“Then I needn’t tell you,” said Elsie feebly.
“That isn’t the way to speak.”
His low voice was suddenly nasty, and she felt frightened. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes. Don’t do it again, Elsie. How far did Woolley go? That’s what I want to know.”
“He—he frightened me. He tried to kiss me.”
“And succeeded. Anything else?”
“Mr. Williams!”
He gazed at her stonily. “Well,” he said at last, “I’m half inclined to believe you. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”