After his rages," he used no name,
"she used to run into my nursery and snatch me up in her arms and hide
her face in my pinafore. Sometimes she stuffed it into her mouth and bit
it to keep herself from screaming. Once--before I was seven--I ran into
their room and shouted out, and tried to fight for her. He was going
out, and had his riding whip in his hand, and he caught hold of me and
struck me with it--until he was tired."
Betty stood upright.
"What! What! What!" she cried out.
He merely nodded his head shortly. She saw what the thing had been by
the way his face lost colour.
"Of course he said it was because I was impudent, and needed
punishment," he said. "He said she had encouraged me in American
impudence. It was worse for her than for me. She kneeled down and
screamed out as if she was crazy, that she would give him what he wanted
if he would stop."
"Wait," said Betty, drawing in her breath sharply. "'He,' is Sir Nigel?
And he wanted something."
He nodded again
"Tell me," she demanded, "has he ever struck her?"
"Once," he answered slowly, "before I was born--he struck her and she
fell against something. That is why I am like this." And he touched his
shoulder.
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