One night, just after Frank King had left, Tom and his sister were by themselves in the billiard-room.
'I want to speak to you, Madge,' said he, in a tone that meant something serious.
'Very well, then.'
'Now, none of your airs and pretence,' he said. 'You needn't try to gammon me.'
'If you would talk English, one might understand you,' she said, spitefully.
'You understand me well enough. When you were on the pier, this morning your eyes were just as wide open as anybody's. And again this afternoon, when you were up on the Marine Parade.'
Madge flushed a little, but said nothing.
'You know as well as anybody that that fellow Hanbury is hanging about,' said Tom, regarding her with suspicion. 'He is always loitering round, dodging after you. And I won't have it. I'll write to the Chief Clerk if he doesn't mind.'
'I don't suppose the Chief Clerk and the Vice-Chancellor and the whole lot of them,' said Madge, pretending to be much interested in the tip of her cue, 'can expel a person from Brighton who is doing no harm.'
'Doing no harm? If you didn't encourage him, do you think he'd hang about like that? If he knew distinctly you wanted him to be off, do you think he'd spend his time slinking about the streets? I believe he has been writing to you again.'