"Isn't it rough on the girl to bring her up like this? In this hole, among these human vermin? She seems to have some decent instincts."
Mrs. Higgs frowned.
"She was brought up as well as she had any right to expect," said she, shortly; "educated fairly well into the bargain. She has not had much to complain of."
Dudley made no answer to this for some minutes, and during this time Mrs. Higgs kept him steadily under observation, not a movement of his hands, a change of his expression, escaping her. At last he looked at her, and seemed to be struck by something in her face. He put his fingers upon the handle of the door as he turned to go.
"Well," said he—his voice sounded hollow, cold—"I have said what I came to say. I need not stay here any longer. I don't wish to meet any of your friends."
Mrs. Higgs got slowly to her feet.
"My friends!" cried she, angrily. "My friends! They've done you no harm, at any rate; while your friends come spying round the place, poking their noses into business which is none of theirs."
Dudley's hand dropped to his side.
"Do you mean Max Wedmore?" said he, earnestly. "Why, he is the son of the man who has been a father to me, who brought me up, who saved me from becoming the outcast that poor girl is—"
Mrs. Higgs interrupted him fiercely.