“Thank you, madam; but you owe me nothing.”
It was high time for Henrietta to leave. Her first surprise had been
followed by mad anger, which drove the blood to her head, and made her
weep bitter tears. She knew now that Mrs. Chevassat had caught her in
this trap. What could the wretched woman have meant?
Carried away by an irresistible impulse, and no longer mistress of
herself, Henrietta rushed down stairs, and broke like a whirlwind into
the little box of the concierge, crying out,--
“How could you dare to send me to such people? You knew all about it.
You are a wretch!”