“It don’t take any thinking, ma’am. Look at his nose and his cheeks. People don’t have those public-house signs on their fronts without going very often into the cellar. Oh, my dear ma’am; you’re a woman—I mean a lady.”
“Only a woman like yourself, Denton.”
“Then don’t—pray don’t stand by with your hands crossed and see that poor darling child sold into such a bondage as this.”
“What do you mean, Denton?”
“Well, there, ma’am, if you’re offended, you must be, but I shall speak the honest truth.”
“Go on, Denton.”
“I mean letting poor Miss Gertrude be married to such a man as Master George.”
“What am I to do, Denton?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I’ve been down upon my bended knees to her, but she turns away. She don’t like him—that’s the wonder of it—and yet she will have him.”
“Yes, Denton; that’s the wonder of it. She’s little and weak, and yet she’s stronger than all of us put together with poor old Mr Harrington’s wishes at her back.”