He's some worthless spark who's got hold of her
for his own amusement. Oh, the silly hussy! What could that prim
Mistress Pinwell have been about? A fine boarding school indeed! She
can't go back. But I won't have her here turning the heads of the men.
That dull lout, Bob Dobson, 'ud as lieve throw his money into her lap as
he'd swallow a mug of ale. What'll her fine friends do for her now?
Nothing. She's ruined herself. Well, I won't have her ruin me."
Mrs. Fenton worked her fury to such a height that she could no longer
contain herself, and seizing her daughter's shoulder she shook her
violently. The girl's tired eyelids slowly lifted and she looked
vaguely into the angry face bending over her.
"Tell me what all this means, you jade. What have you been up to? How is
it you're in such a state? Who's been making a fool of you? Who's this
Dorrimore? Are you married to him or not?"
The good lady might have spared herself the trouble of pouring out this
torrent of questions. The last was really the only one that mattered.
"Married? No, I'm not," said Lavinia drowsily. "Don't bother me, mother.
Let me sleep. I'll tell you everything, but not--not now. I'm too
tired."
"Tell me everything? I should think you will or I'll know the reason
why. And it'll have to be the truth or I'll beat it out of you. Get up."
There was no help for it. Lavinia knew her mother's temper when it was
roused.
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