"YOU'LL stay here and HE'LL go back to his home if I have to tell everyone and disgrace yez both."
Ethel cowered down frightenedly.
"No! No! You must not do that! You must not do that!" she cried, terror-stricken.
"Ye just told me yer own mother couldn't stop ye?" said Peg.
"My mother mustn't know. She mustn't know. Let me go. He is waiting—and it is past the time—"
"Let him wait!" replied Peg firmly. "He gave his name an' life to a woman an' it's yer duty to protect her an' the child she brought him."
"I'd kill myself first!" answered Ethel through her clenched teeth.
"No, ye won't. Ye won't kill yerself at all. Ye might have if ye'd gone with him. Why that's the kind of man that tires of ye in an hour and laves ye to sorrow alone. Doesn't he want to lave the woman now that he swore to cherish at the altar of God? What do ye suppose he'd do to one he took no oath with at all? Now have some sense about it. I know him and his kind very well. Especially HIM. An' sure it's no compliment he's payin' ye ayther. Faith, he'd ha' made love to ME if I'd LET him."
"What? To YOU?" cried Ethel in astonishment.
"Yes, to ME. Here in this room to-day. If ye hadn't come in when ye did, I'd ha' taught him a lesson he'd ha' carried to his grave, so I would!"