Before her companion could answer, Lord St. Austell was beside them. He looked coldly and sternly at his daughter.
“Come down here, out of the crowd,” said he. “I wish to speak to you.”
He took her arm and led her down the platform to the almost deserted end, which is, morning and evening, piled with huge milk cans going and returning between the London dairies and the country. Deborah followed them at a long distance, and waited. The earl addressed his daughter very coldly.
“What is the meaning of this exhibition. You promised me, when I took you home last night, that you would remain there.”
“I couldn’t papa, I couldn’t,” sobbed the girl.
“What have you come here for?”
“To tell you that I love him, and that if you don’t let him off I shall kill myself and let everybody know why. You don’t believe me!” the poor distracted creature continued passionately.
“I do. I could believe anything of such an idiot,” said her father contemptuously. “You have seen him, I suppose, this morning?”
“No. I don’t know where he lives.”
“Ah, he was afraid of your worrying him even at his rooms, evidently.” And he uttered an exclamation of disgust. “Now go home. Nothing is further from my thoughts than punishing Rees. I would not even give him a fool for a wife.”