. I'm tired. I'm faint. Give me some
coffee--cocoa--anything."

Faint indeed she was. At that meal with Lancelot Vane she had eaten very
sparingly. She was too excited, too much absorbed and interested in
seeing him so ravenous to think of herself. In addition she had gone
through much fatigue.

"Coffee--cocoa--to be sure," cried the kindly Hannah, "an' a hot
buttered cake besides. You shan't say a word till I've gotten them
ready."

The cook had gone. There was no one in the house save Hannah. The two
went into the kitchen where the fire was burning low--with the aid of
the bellows Hannah soon fanned the embers into a flame and she was not
happy until Lavinia had eaten and drank.

Then Lavinia told the story of her adventures, hesitatingly at first and
afterwards with more confidence seeing that Hannah sympathised and did
not chide or ridicule.

"An' do 'ee mean to tell me you're going to Twitenham to-morrow?"

Lavinia nodded.

"What, over a worthless young man who gets drunk at the first chance he
has?"

Lavinia fired up.

"He's not worthless and he wasn't drunk."

"Hoity-toity. What a pother to be sure. Well, I'll warrant he is by this
time."

"How do you know? If he is it won't be his fault. The others were
drinking and filling his glass. I saw them, the wretches," cried Lavinia
with heightened colour. "But it is nothing to me," she went on tossing
her head. "Why should I bother if a man drinks or doesn't drink?"

"Why indeed," said Hannah ironically. "Since you don't care we needn't
talk about him."

"No, we won't, if you've only unkind things to say."

"Eh, would you have me tell you how well you've behaved and how good you
are? First you run away to be married to a man you don't care for, and
in the next breath you take no end of trouble and tire yourself to death
over another man you say you don't care for either. Are you going
through your life like that--men loving you and you leaving them?"

"You're talking nonsense, Hannah. You know nothing about it," cried
Lavinia angrily. "Let me manage my own affairs my own way and tell me
what mother's doing. You read me a riddle about her just now."

"'Tisn't much of a riddle. It's just what one might guess she'd do when
she's on the scent for money. You've become mighty valuable to her all
of a sudden."

"I! Valuable? Oh la! That's too funny."

"You think so, do you child? Wait till you hear. _I_ call it a monstrous
shame an' downright wicked.