"I rather think you have taken it away yourself by behaving so treacherously to me," said Rupert grimly. "However, I don't agree with Mr. Carrington that you sent that letter to yourself from yourself."
"How could I," sobbed Mrs. Beatson, "when I haven't been near London? And I'm not a conspirator. It's a shame blaming me for trying to help myself. Why can't you leave me alone? Two men on to one woman. You ought to go on your knees and beg my pardon."
This amazing view of the case extorted a contemptuous smile from Carrington. He had much experience in his profession of the fair sex, and knew the marvellous way in which women extricated themselves from difficulties which would overwhelm a mere man. Logic, as he was well aware, formed no part of the feminine nature. "I shan't try to argue with you," he said mildly, "for you would be sure to get the better of me. But you have behaved very badly to Mr. Hendle."
"No, I haven't. I had a right to look after myself."
"Not at his expense. He has always treated you kindly and----"
"Well, why shouldn't he?" demanded Mrs. Beatson, rolling up her handkerchief into a damp ball and dabbing her red eyes. "I have always done my duty, I hope, and at a small salary, too. I could get a better place any day."
"Then I advise you to look out for one," said Rupert, astonished at this ingratitude. "You certainly shan't stay here."
"What?" Mrs. Beatson gasped and stared.
"Well, why should you when you can be happier elsewhere?"
"I didn't say that I would. And if you discharge me--as I knew you would when you talked of marrying Miss Mallien--I shall ask for one year's wages and a letter saying how thoroughly I attended to my duties."