home, I s'pose? But me! my home's like hell, with nothing but
quarrellin' and cursin', and a father who beats us whether sober or
drunk. Yes!' she repeated shrewdly, seeing the lively disgust on
Willoughby's face, 'he beat me, all ill as I was, jus' before I come
away. I could show you the bruises on my arms still. And now to go back
there after knowin' you! It'll be worse than ever. I can't endure it,
and I won't! I'll put an end to it or myself somehow, I swear!'

'But my poor Esther, how can I help it? what can I do?' said Willoughby.
He was greatly moved, full of wrath with her father, with all the world
which makes women suffer. He had suffered himself at the hands of a
woman and severely, but this, instead of hardening his heart, had only
rendered it the more supple. And yet he had a vivid perception of the
peril in which he stood. An interior voice urged him to break away, to
seek safety in flight even at the cost of appearing cruel or ridiculous;
so, coming to a point in the field where an elm-hole jutted out across
the path, he saw with relief he could now withdraw his hand from the
girl's, since they must walk singly to skirt round it.

Esther took a step in advance, stopped and suddenly turned to face him;
she held out her two hands and her face was very near his own.

'Don't you care for me one little bit?' she said wistfully, and surely
sudden madness fell upon him. For he kissed her again, he kissed her
many times, he took her in his arms, and pushed all thoughts of the
consequences far from him.

But when, an hour later, he and Esther stood by the last gate on the
road to Orton, some of these consequences were already calling loudly to
him.