“But—”
“Not a word. Do what I say. The boy will obey you like a sheep dog.”
“And then?”
“What then? That is all.”
“But, Rockley, no violence.”
“Bah! Rubbish! Do as I bid you. I shall push the boy into a bush; that’s all.”
There was a dead silence.
“Must I do this, Rockley?”
“Yes, you must. Go at once. You shall not be mixed in the affair at all. No one can blame you, for the boy is too tipsy to recollect anything to-morrow. Now go.”
There was a rustle of a dress, and Cora had just time to draw out of sight as Mrs Pontardent passed her.