'Oh! I forgot. Miss Holwood.'
Then all at once her anger gave way. In a lower tone she said, 'Call me what you will. I do not care. I sold laces and pins and needles—pins at a ha'penny a row. Yes, I am a tramp, a common huckster. Say what you will. I know I am honest, and I know my mother is clear as sea-water. Say what you will, you and that bully Dench. I am alone, and there is none to protect me. Insult me as you choose. It is fine sport for men. They can worry us and do not fear having their fingers bitten. I cannot defend myself against a brute like Dench and a coward like you combined against me.'
'Winefred,' said the young man, 'I also am alone, utterly alone in the world. In that we are alike. But there the likeness ends. I am poor, you are rich. But in my poverty and solitude I thank God I am not as you are, full of malice.'
'Of malice!'
'Of resentment and rage.'
'Have I not a cause? When every one is set against us, when we are worried and baited, can we curl up and take it calmly? The hedgehog can do that because of his prickles. If I were to scream out all would laugh. When I shut my lips you sneer and say I am holding back my tears. Let me through.'
Without another word, without a good-night, but dashing a blow at him, a harmless stroke with the thorn bough, she thrust through the gateway he had made and went forth upon the down.