Mr Griffith stood indecisively before his wife.

'But think what a state she's in, mother. She was crying when she wrote
the letter.'

'Let her cry; she'll have to cry a lot more before she's done. And it
serves her right; and it serves you right. She'll have to go through a
good deal more than that before God forgives her, I can tell you.'

'Perhaps she's starving.'

'Let her starve, for all I care. She's dead to us; I've told everyone in
Blackstable that I haven't got a daughter now, and if she came on her
bended knees before me I'd spit on her.'

George had come in and listened to the conversation.

'Think what people would say, father,' he said now; 'as it is, it's
jolly awkward, I can tell you. No one would speak to us if she was back
again. It's not as if people didn't know; everyone in Blackstable knows
what she's been up to.'

'And what about George?' put in Mrs Griffith. 'D'you think the Polletts
would stand it?' George was engaged to Edith Pollett.

'She'd be quite capable of breaking it off if Daisy came back,' said
George. 'She's said as much.'

'Quite right too!' cried his mother. 'And I'm not going to be like Mrs
Jay with Lottie. Everyone knows about Lottie's goings-on, and you can
see how people treat them--her and her mother. When Mrs Gray passes them
in the street she always goes on the other side. No, I've always held my
head high, and I'm always going to. I've never done anything to be
ashamed of as far as I know, and I'm not going to begin now. Everyone
knows it was no fault of mine what Daisy did, and all through I've
behaved so that no one should think the worse of me.'

Mr Griffith sank helplessly into a chair, the old habit of submission
asserted itself, and his weakness gave way as usual before his wife's
strong will. He had not the courage to oppose her.

'What shall I answer, then?' he asked.

'Answer? Nothing.'

'I must write something. She'll be waiting for the letter, and waiting
and waiting.'

'Let her wait.'

VI

A few days later another letter came from Daisy, asking pitifully why
they didn't write, begging them again to forgive her and take her back.
The letter was addressed to Mr Griffith; the girl knew that it was only
from him she might expect mercy; but he was out when it arrived. Mrs
Griffith opened it, and passed it on to her son. They looked at one
another guiltily; the same thought had occurred to both, and each knew
it was in the other's mind.

'I do