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 perceived the suffering it wore as a tragic mask…. She too listened.

“Malcolm Crane, if you don’t like having him here you can go home—straight home,” Lydia flared.

“It isn’t right, and you know it…. You know what he is. His father was a thief, and he… killed a man. He’s a jailbird.”

“Don’t you talk that way about him. I told him when you did it before. He isn’t a jailbird—he was innocent. Uncle Craig told me so. It was your father and his meanness and his selfishness that made them have Angus in court at all. Your father was small and mean like you are—small and miserable and horrid…. I wish I hadn’t asked you to come.”

“Hush, everybody’ll hear you.”

“I want them to…. I want them to know what I think of you—going around telling lies and stirring up folks against Angus…. If it wasn’t for your father and you people would forget. He’s better than you are. He’s honest. And he knows more than you do, and people like Mr. Woodhouse trust him…. He’s worth a dozen like you, and he’s more of a gentleman, too.”

“Lydia!…”

Angus got up slowly now, the misery was gone from his eyes, his shoulders were thrown