“Yes; and that you have taken the bit in your teeth, and that I can’t hold you in.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” said Eaton gloomily. “I don’t want to hurt my dear mother’s feelings; but when she knows Julia and Mrs Hallam—”
“And the convict father and his friend.”
“For Heaven’s sake don’t!” cried Eaton, striking the chair and wincing hard, for he hurt his injured shoulder.
“I must, my dear boy. Marriage is a terrible fact, and you must look at it on all sides.”
“I mean to get them both away from here,” said Eaton firmly. “Their present life is horrible.”
“Yes; it is, my boy.”
“My gorge rises every time I hear that drinking scoundrel of a father speak to Julia, and that other ruffian come and fetch her away.”
“Not a very nice way of speaking about the father of your intended,” said Mrs Otway dryly—“about your host.”
“No, and I would not speak so if I did not see so much. The man has served part of his time for his old crime, of which he swears he was innocent, and I’d forget all the past if I saw he was trying to do the right thing.”