"Not until you hear my story," I said, eagerly.
"Why should you tell me?" she asked.
"Because I do not wish you to judge me wrongly," I said; "because you have known me only as one who is evil and revengeful. Let me tell you the truth."
She did not speak, but she looked at me as if expecting me to go on. So I told her my story eagerly, told it truly, as I have tried to tell it here, only in fewer words.
"And this is true?" she asked, eagerly. "That is," she said, correcting herself, "you are sure you are not mistaken?"
"As God lives, it is true," I replied. "Is it any wonder, then, that I hate the Tresidders, is it any wonder that I should thrash them as I would thrash a yelping, biting cur?"
"Is it brave for a strong man to pounce upon a weaker one?" she asked.
"They were two to one," I replied; "besides, the street was full of people, and he has everything on his side, and I am alone, an outcast, a beggar in my own parish."
"But he has the law on his side."
"Yes; and he has twisted the law to serve his own ends. He and his mother have used vile tools to cheat me."