"Yes, I know," Mr. Royall said slowly. "But that ain't going to help us
much now."

"It helps me not to care a straw what lies you tell about me!"

"If they're lies, they're not my lies: my Bible oath on that, Charity. I
didn't know where you were: I wasn't out of this house last night."

She made no answer and he went on: "Is it a lie that you were seen
coming out of Miss Hatchard's nigh onto midnight?"

She straightened herself with a laugh, all her reckless insolence
recovered. "I didn't look to see what time it was."

"You lost girl... you... you.... Oh, my God, why did you tell me?" he
broke out, dropping into his chair, his head bowed down like an old
man's.

Charity's self-possession had returned with the sense of her danger. "Do
you suppose I'd take the trouble to lie to YOU? Who are you, anyhow, to
ask me where I go to when I go out at night?"

Mr. Royall lifted his head and looked at her. His face had grown quiet
and almost gentle, as she remembered seeing it sometimes when she was a
little girl, before Mrs. Royall died.

"Don't let's go on like this, Charity. It can't do any good to either of
us. You were seen going into that fellow's house... you were seen coming
out of it.... I've watched this thing coming, and I've tried to stop it.
As God sees me, I have...."