“It's him!” she cried, seizing her husband's arm with one hand and pointing at me with the other. “It's him,” she cried, venomously. “He's here, too.”
The sight of me appeared to upset what little self-control Mr. Cripps had left.
“You!” he shouted, “I might 'ave known you were 'ere. You're the one that's done it. You're responsible. Filling her silly 'ead with lies about your goodness and all that. Making her fall in love with you and—”
I sprang forward.
“WHAT?” I cried. “What are you saying?”
Hephzy was frightened.
“Hosy,” she cried, “don't look so. Don't! You frighten me.”
I scarcely heard her.
“WHAT did you say?” I demanded, addressing Cripps, who shrank back, rather alarmed apparently. “Why, you scoundrel! What do you mean by saying that? Speak up! What do you mean by it?”
If Mr. Cripps was alarmed his wife was not. She stepped forward and faced me defiantly.