do?"

An idea rushed across Lucy's brain, which, had she thought of it
sooner and made it part of her, might have proved victorious.

"I propose to speak to him," said she.

Miss Bartlett uttered a cry of genuine alarm.

"You see, Charlotte, your kindness--I shall never forget it.
But--as you said--it is my affair. Mine and his."

"And you are going to IMPLORE him, to BEG him to keep silence?"

"Certainly not. There would be no difficulty. Whatever you ask
him he answers, yes or no; then it is over. I have been
frightened of him. But now I am not one little bit."

"But we fear him for you, dear. You are so young and
inexperienced, you have lived among such nice people, that you
cannot realize what men can be--how they can take a brutal
pleasure in insulting a woman whom her sex does not protect and
rally round. This afternoon, for example, if I had not arrived,
what would have happened?"

"I can't think," said Lucy gravely.

Something in her voice made Miss Bartlett repeat her question,
intoning it more vigorously.