John answered with deliberation, “Not in that girl's company.”
“Why not?”
“I say not in that girl's company.”
There was a short pause, and then Glory said with a quivering mouth: “You are vexing me, and you will end by making me cry. Don't you see you are degrading me too? I am not used to being degraded. You see me with a weak silly creature who hasn't an idea in her head and can do nothing but giggle and laugh and make eyes at men, and you think I'm going to be led away by her. Do you suppose a girl can't take care of herself?”
“As you will, then,” said John, with a fling of his hand, going off down the steps.
“Mr. Storm—Mr. Storm—Jo—Joh——”
But he was out on the pavement and getting into the workhouse van.
“Ah!” said a mincing voice beside her. “How jolly it is when anybody is suffering for your sake!” It was Polly Love, and again her eyelids were half covering her eyes.
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” said Glory. Her own eyes were swimming in big tear-drops.
“Don't you? What a funny girl you are! But your education has been neglected, my dear.”