‘Don’t!’ she cried. ‘You’re hurting me!’
He wanted to hurt her. He only held her tighter. ‘Where’s your father?’ he said.
‘Father’s gone out,’ she said. ‘Oh, let me go!’
‘Gone out, is he? Well, I’ll have a talk to him about this when he comes back. Then we’ll see . . .’
‘You can tell him all the dirty lies you like,’ she said defiantly.
But, in reality, his words had thrown her into a state of terror. That squat owl-faced father of hers was the one person on earth whom she dreaded. It came over her suddenly that somehow or other she must prevent his knowing, for though he had no objection to his daughter being free with men for the good of the house, she knew that he was anxious to keep on good terms with Badger and would be furious to think that she had taken up with a labouring man. Somehow she must flatter the keeper out of his intention; but she knew that a sudden change of front would be a manœuvre too transparent. It pleased her, therefore, to give vent to the emotions which she had so far controlled and to break down in the most natural tears. She put her handkerchief to her eyes and sobbed violently.
Badger was bewildered by this but still determined.
‘You don’t get over me that way,’ he said. ‘Not if I know it!’
She went on sobbing, and the spectacle began to get on his nerves.
‘You can cry your eyes out, my girl, but I’m going to tell your father.’