Maldon. "Come here!" he repeated coarsely. Rachel
obeyed, shamefaced despite herself. Batchgrew shut the door. "Now,"
he said grimly, "what's your secret? Out with it. I know you and her's
got a secret. What is it?"
Rachel sat down on the sofa, hid her face in her hands, and startled
both men by a sob. She wept with violence. And then through her tears,
and half looking up, she cried out passionately: "It's all your fault.
Why did you leave the money in the house at all? You know you'd no
right to do it, Mr. Batchgrew!"
The councillor was shaken out of his dignity by the incredible
impudence of this indictment from a chit like Rachel. Similar
experiences, however, had happened to him before; for, though as a
rule people most curiously conspired with him to keep up the fiction
that he was sacred, at rare intervals somebody's self-control would
break down, and bitter, inconvenient home truths would resound in
the ear of Thomas Batchgrew. But he would recover himself in a few
moments, and usually some diversion would occur to save him--he was
nearly always lucky. A diversion occurred now, of the least expected
kind. The cajoling tones of Mrs. Tams were heard on the staircase.
"Nay, ma'am! Nay, ma'am! This'll never do.
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