“It’s my duty to see after you,” he said. “It can’t hurt you or anyone for us to have advice.”
In the train from Liverpool Street she had told herself she had intended to wipe the floor with Mr. Sam Widgery, but things hardly seemed to be happening like that.
“Bah!” she cried. “D’you think I’d come back here?”
“Better than being lost in London, Chrissie,” he said. “Better than being lost in London. We can’t have you wandering off in London, same as your father did.”
She felt that the time had come for her to go, but for a second or so she could not move to do so. She could not move because she feared he might do something to detain her, and if he did she did not know what she would do. Then she pulled herself up by the feet.
“Well,” she said with a step past him doorward that turned him on his heel; “I’ve told you what I think of you. I’d better be getting back to London.”
In his eyes she saw the thought of obstructing her flash into being and die. “Won’t you stay and have something,” he said, “before you go back?”
“Eat here!” she cried and got to the door.
Her hand trembled so that it was difficult to turn the handle. He stood motionless, staring at her with his lower lip dropping and an expression of doubt upon his face. It was as if he was not quite sure of himself nor of the course he meant to pursue. The course he wanted to pursue was appallingly plain.