"
Ernest felt rueful, but he had resisted so valiantly already that
the devil might have saved himself the trouble of trying to get at him
through Ellen in the matter of his father and mother. He changed the
subject, and the pair warmed to one another as they had their tripe
and pots of beer. Of all people in the world Ellen was perhaps the one
to whom Ernest could have spoken most freely at this juncture. He told
her what he thought he could have told to no one else.
"You know, Ellen," he concluded, "I had learnt as a boy things
that I ought not to have learnt, and had never had a chance of that
which would have set me straight."
"Gentlefolks is always like that," said Ellen musingly.
"I believe you are right, but I am no longer a gentleman, Ellen, and
I don't see why I should be 'like that' any longer, my dear. I want
you to help me to be like something else as soon as possible."
"Lor'! Master Ernest, whatever can you be meaning?"
The pair soon afterwards left the eating-house and walked up Fetter
Lane together.
Ellen had had hard times since she had left Battersby, but they
had left little trace upon her.
Ernest saw only the fresh-looking, smiling face, the dimpled
cheek, the clear blue eyes and lovely, sphinx-like lips which he had
remembered as a boy.
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