“I think it’s horrible of you—­perfectly horrible.  I’d absolutely no idea you were that sort of woman—­I thought at least you were decent and respectable....  A man you were engaged to, too.  Oh, I know what you’re thinking—­you’re thinking I’m in the same boat as you are, but I tell you I’m not.  I was a married woman—­I couldn’t have married my lover, I’d a right to take what I could get.  But you could have married yours—­you were going to marry him.  But you lost your head—­like a common servant—­like the girl you sacked years ago when you thought I was too young to understand anything about it.  And I never landed myself with a child—­at least there was some possibility of wiping out what I’d done when it proved a mistake, some chance of living it down—­and I’ve done it, I’ve won my way back, and now you come along and disgrace me all over again, and the man I love ...”

Never had Ellen’s voice been so like Joanna’s.  It had risen to a hoarse note where it hung suspended—­anyone now would know that they were sisters.

“I tell you I’m sorry, Ellen.  But I can’t do nothing bout it.”

“Yes, you can.  You can marry this man, Hill—­then no one need ever know, Tip need never know—­”

“Reckon that wouldn’t keep them from knowing.  They’d see as I was getting married in a hurry—­not an invitation out and my troossoo not half ready—­and then they’d count the months till the baby came.  No, I tell you, it’ll be much better if I go away.  Everyone ull think as I’m bust, through having lost my case, and I’ll go right away—­Chichester, I’d thought of going to, where Martha Relf is—­and when the baby comes, no one till be a bit the wiser.”

“Of course they will.  They’ll know all about it—­everything gets known here, and you’ve never in your life been able to keep a secret.  If you marry, people won’t talk in the same way—­it’ll be only guessing, anyhow.  You needn’t be down here when the baby’s born—­and at least Tip needn’t know.  Joanna, if you love me, if you ever loved me, you’ll send a wire to this man and tell him that you’ve changed your mind and must see him—­you can easily make up the quarrel, whatever it was.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t marry me now, even if I did wire.”

“Nonsense—­he’d have to.”

“Well, he won’t be asked.”

Joanna was stiffening with grief.  She had not expected to have this battle with Ellen; she had been prepared for abuse and upbraiding, but not for argument—­it had not struck her that her sister would demand the rehabilitation she herself refused.

“You’re perfectly shameless,” sobbed Ellen.  “My God!  It ud take a woman like you to brazen through a thing like this.  Swanking, swaggering, you’ve always been ... well, I bet you’ll find this too much even for your swagger—­you don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for....  I can tell you a little, for I’ve known, I’ve felt, what people can be....  I’ve had to face them—­when you wouldn’t let Arthur give me my divorce.”