Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. She can be of use to me yet. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. For nothing will ever convince me that it is not the man’s share in life to shield, to protect, to lead and toil and watch and battle with the world at large. Now I have done something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. Tell me. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself.
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