"Never mind! That's my business, not yours. She's got into this mess by herself, and she must get out of it by herself; I wash my hands of her. I've got an appointment which I must keep. You let me go."
He got up with a little air of bluster which was pitiful; it was such a poor attempt at make-believe.
"Listen to me, Mr. Withers—correct me if I am wrong; but you seem to be a nice young man—a very nice young man. And it's because you're such a very nice young man, always attending, Mr. Withers, your correction, that I desire to inform you that if you don't answer my questions, as truthfully as your nature will allow you, there'll be trouble. You understand? Trouble. So be so good as to tell me at once what there can possibly be in common between a lady of Miss Moore's class and a person of yours?"
"'Yours' is good. I don't see what difference there can be between our classes, considering that she's my sister."
Miss Adair interposed.
"Your sister? Bessie's your sister. Then you're Tom Moore, her vagabond of a brother, who's robbed her of hundreds and hundreds of pounds. I thought I knew your face, it's like a bad copy of Bessie's, with all her goodness
