Beatrice faced him defiantly.
“What have you to say against him, sir?”
Ralph made a movement to speak, but the girl checked him.
“I wish to hear it. What have you to say?”
“He is a creature of Cromwell’s who plotted the death of God’s saints. This brother of mine was at the examinations, I hear, and at the scaffold. Is that enough?”
Chris had himself under control again by now, but his words seemed to burn with vitriol. His lips writhed as he spoke.
“Well?” said Beatrice.
“Well, if that is not enough; how of More and my Lord of Rochester?”
“He has been a good friend to Mr. More,” said Beatrice, “that I know.”
“He will get him the martyr’s crown, surely,” sneered Chris.