“Oh, yes, you have, you’ve outside this office to go to. Now, no nonsense!” He struck a hand-bell; a porter entered. “Take these young women out of this; let them have what’s due to them; see they’re off the premises inside half an hour.”
“Oh, Mr. Slaughter!” wailed Emily.
It made me so angry to see her demean herself before that unfeeling thing of wood, that I caught her by the wrist.
“Come, Emily! don’t degrade yourself by appealing to that cruel, unjust, hard-hearted man. Don’t you see that he thinks it fine sport to trample upon helpless girls?”
“Come, none of that.”
The porter put his hand upon my shoulder. Before I knew it we were out of the office and half a dozen yards away. I turned upon him in a flame of passion.
“Take your hand from off my shoulder! If you dare to touch me again you’ll be sorry!”
He was not a bad sort. He seemed scared at the sight of me.
“I don’t want to do anything to you. Only what’s the good of making a fuss? You know he’s master here.”
“And, because he’s master here, I suppose, if he tells you to behave like a miserable coward, you would?”