"It was an old lady with a bonnet tied under her chin," he told her soberly. "She's dead."
But Joan had no ears for the earlier tragedy.
"There's a man frightening Mrs. Darcy," she said breathlessly, "he seems to be somebody she knows. He's—threatening her! Oh, Archie, what shall we do?"
The meaning of it, the incredible sordid horror of the thing she had half learned, began to come home to her. Her father's wife!
"Threatening!" Archie's jaw set. "Here, that won't do!"
He strode forward, Joan following. They both heard the man say with leering distinctness, "It ought to be worth a little cash to a loving husband to learn the sort of woman he's married up with, Ef, old girl!"
Then Archie's hand fell on his shoulder.
Joan never forgot the face her step-mother turned upon them—She made a desperate attempt to rally.
"Why—why, dearie! is that you? A—an old friend of mine's been giving me a tip."
"Get out," said Archie to the man. "Get out, quick!"