"Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. We’ve brought a carriage to take you back to London, and I’ve settled with Trodger, who has just given me a coherent account of the affair. “You have no right to hold me to a bargain which on your side was a lie. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. His firmness never deserted him till his old master, Mr. 136 They came out and said it: Lucy was needed at home to cook and clean. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason.
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