The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. It is one of God’s laws that a woman may defend her honour, even with the shedding of blood. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile.
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