And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. God only knows what I have done, or left undone. Only an undermaid I was then. ’ She was obliged to acknowledge the justice of this complaint, and moved further into the passage to allow the men access. The lad looked alarmed. I think you will find that his story will be believed, whatever I say; and in any case, if he is going to stay on here, I shall have to go away. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. “It means that I have had enough of this slavery,” she declared. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. We needn’t try and give ourselves airs. He begged their attention for the next turn. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t.
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