I do. She wants a change; she's getting tired of her very life.'

'Very well,' cried the father in shrill irritation, 'why doesn't she
take the change that's offered to her? She's no need to go neither
to workroom nor to bar. There's a good home waiting for her, isn't
there? What's come to the girl? She used to go on as if she liked
you well enough.'

'A girl alters a deal between fifteen and seventeen,' Sidney
replied, forcing himself to speak with an air of calmness, of
impartiality. 'She wasn't old enough to know her own mind. I'm tired
of plaguing her. I feel ashamed to say another word to her, and
that's the truth. She only gets more and more set against me. If
it's ever to come right, it'll have to be by waiting; we won't talk
about that any more. Think of her quite apart from me, and what I've
been hoping. She's seventeen years old. You can't deal with a girl
of that age like you can with Amy and Annie. You'll have to trust
her, Mr. Hewett. You'll have to, because there's no help for it.
We're working people, we are; we're the lower orders; our girls have
to go out and get their livings. We teach them the best we can, and
the devil knows they've got examples enough of misery and ruin
before their eyes to help them to keep straight. Rich people can
take care of their daughters as much as they like; they can treat
them like children till they're married; people of our kind can't do
that, and it has to be faced.'

John sat with dark brow, his eyes staring on vacancy.

'It's right what Sidney says, father,' put in Mrs. Hewett; 'we can't
help it.'