Her raillery cheered me more than I can say.
“Miss Stretton, it is more than good of you to receive an outcast in this generous manner.”
“An outcast? Please don’t talk rubbish, Mr. Tremorne! Somehow I had taken you for a sensible person, and now all my ideas about you are shattered.”
“I don’t wonder at it,” I said despondently.
“Yes, I know you are in the Slough of Despond, and I am trying to pull you out of it. When I remember that men have ruled great empires, carried on important wars, subdued the wilderness, conquered the ocean, girdled the earth with iron, I declare I wonder where their brains depart to when they are confronted with silly, whimpering, designing women.”
“But still, Miss Stretton, to come from the general to the particular, a man has no right to ill-treat a woman.”
“I quite agree with you; but, as you say, to come to this particular incident which is in both our minds, do you actually believe that there was ill-treatment? Don’t you know in your own soul that if the girl had received treatment like that long ago she would not now be a curse to herself and to all who are condemned to live within her radius?”
“Yet I cannot conceal from myself that it was none of my business. Her father was present, and her correction was his affair.”
“Her correction was any one’s affair that had the courage to undertake it. What had you seen? You had seen her strike me, and thrust me from her as if I were a leper. Then you saw this girl with the temper of the—the temper of the—oh, help me——”
“Temper of the devil,” I responded promptly.