"It may be sport to you--I daresay it is, there was a time when I used to think that sort of thing was sport--but it is death to me. Death! He has as good as promised that I shall be his wife. I have staked everything upon the fulfilment of his promise. Nothing can compensate me for his breaking it. I won't try to make you understand why--you mightn't understand me if I tried! But if he does, I'll go under--under! If you only knew what I've endured since he's begun to tire, you'd pity me. I'm here to ask you to pity me now. We're both women--be generous--I'll be sworn it's not of much consequence to you--be good to me. If you'll only send him back to me, help me to be his wife, there's nothing I won't do for you, in reason or out of reason. I swear it. I'll put it down in black and white in any form you like!" With trembling hands she caught hold of Lizzie's shabby sleeve. "But don't be cruel to me--don't be cruel!"
Lizzie shrunk away from her.
"You're making a mistake, Miss Graham, a big mistake!"
"Don't say that, for pity's sake, don't say that! Show mercy to me, as one day you may want some other woman to show mercy to you."
Lizzie withdrew herself still farther from the other's eager pleading.
"You've got it all wrong, I'm not the girl you're taking me for. I don't know no Earl of Bermondsey, nor yet no Earl of anything, and I don't want to."
"Why should you deny it?"
"Because it's the truth. I'm straight, I am, and I always have been, and I always mean to be, and if any of your toffs came playing it off on to me he'd get a bit more than he quite wanted."
The girl's tone and manner carried conviction even to her hearer.
"Is it possible that he is known to you under some different name? Tell me, what friends have you?"