Mrs. Loman laughed and the doctor grinned back at her.
White patches had appeared on the mottled surface of Mrs. Woolley’s face, but she made no rejoinder.
Doctor Woolley turned to Elsie again, the merriment dropping from his manner. “That’ll shut her up for a bit,” he said between his teeth. “Has she been giving you gyp, Elsie?”
“Oh, it’s been awful. I’m certain she’s found out.”
“How?”
“That Florrie, I suppose.”
“Damn Florrie and her mischief-making! Well, kiddie, the fat’s in the fire. I’m afraid there’s only one thing for it.”
“What?”
“Why—why, my dear child, don’t you see for yourself—you’ll have to clear out of here. No use waiting for Amy to make a bloody row, now is there? If you simply say you’re going home again, she won’t have a leg to stand on. And if it wasn’t for—for the kids, I’d go with you.”
“You wouldn’t,” said Elsie bitterly. “I may be a bit green, but I’m not green enough to swallow that.”