'
The landlady wiped her eyes.
'Never you mind about law nor nothing,' cried the man, in a strange,
strong voice. 'I'm not moving out of this public tonight.'
The woman turned to the soldiers behind her, and said in a wheedling,
sarcastic tone:
'Are we going to stand it, boys?--Are we going to be done like this,
Sergeant Thomas, by a scoundrel and a bully as has led a life beyond
_mention_, in those American mining-camps, and then wants to come back
and make havoc of a poor woman's life and savings, after having left her
with a baby in arms to struggle as best she might? It's a crying shame if
nobody will stand up for me--a crying shame--!'
The soldiers and the little sergeant were bristling. The woman stooped
and rummaged under the counter for a minute. Then, unseen to the man away
near the fire, she threw out a plaited grass rope, such as is used for
binding bales, and left it lying near the feet of the young soldiers, in
the gloom at the back of the bar.
Then she rose and fronted the situation.
'Come now,' she said to the man, in a reasonable, coldly-coaxing tone,
'put your coat on and leave us alone. Be a man, and not worse than a
brute of a German. You can get a bed easy enough in St Just, and if
you've nothing to pay for it sergeant would lend you a couple of
shillings, I'm sure he would.'
All eyes were fixed on the man. He was looking down at the woman like a
creature spell-bound or possessed by some devil's own intention.
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