“I will not! I will not indeed!”
“You swear it?”
“I do.”
“And by G—d,” the man interposed bluntly, “she’d better keep to it.”
“Very well,” Bess said. “You have it your own way. But I tell you truly, I put you in here for the best. And perhaps you’ll know it before you’re an hour older. However, all’s said, and it’s your own doing.”
“Why don’t you let me go?” Henrietta panted. “Let me go, and let me take the child!”
“Stow it!” the man cried, cutting her short. “It’s likely, when we’re as like as not to pay dear for taking you. Do you shut your talking-trap!”
“She’ll be quiet,” Bess said, more gently. “So douse the glim, lad. And do you give me the child,” to Henrietta.
But she cried, “No! No!” and held it more closely to her.
“Very good! Then take my hand—you don’t know the way. And not a whisper, mind! Slip the bolt, Giles! And, mum, all!”