Even in the dim light Eve could see the expanded nostrils and threatening eyes.
“Let my wrist go!”
“Not a bit of it. What’s this particular house to you? What have you turned soft for? Out with it. I suppose there’s a man somewhere at the back of your mind.”
There was a sound in Lizzie Straker’s voice that reminded Eve of the ripping of calico.
“I am simply telling you that this cottage is not going to be burnt.”
“Joan, d’you hear that? You—you can’t stop it!”
Eve twisted free.
“I have only to shout rather strenuously. The Fernhill people are on the alert. Unless you tell Mr. Kentucky, or Galahad as you please to call him——”
Lizzie Straker sprang at her like a wild cat.
“Sneak, rat, moral prostitute!”