like as long as they're not married. I never think the worse of them,
whatever they do that's honest. But a wife must play second fiddle, and
think her husband a small god almighty--that's my way of looking at the
question.'

Beatrice laughed scornfully.

'All right. We shall see.--When do you start business?'

'This side Christmas. End of September, perhaps.'

'You think to snatch a good deal from B. & F., I daresay?'

Crewe nodded and smiled.

'Then you'll look after this affair for me?' said Beatrice, with a
return to the tone of strict business.

'Without loss of time. You shall be advised of progress. Of course I
must debit you with exes.'

'All right. Mind you charge for all the penny stamps.'

'Every one--don't you forget it.'

He stood up, tilted forward on his toes, and stretched himself.

'I'll be trotting homewards. It'll be time for by-by when I get to
Kennington.'

CHAPTER 3

Nancy was undisturbed by the promotion of Mary Woodruff. A short time
ago it would have offended her; she would have thought her dignity, her
social prospects, imperilled. She was now careless on that score, and
felt it a relief to cast off the show of domestic authority. Henceforth
her position would be like that of Horace. All she now desired was
perfect freedom from responsibility,--to be, as it were, a mere lodger
in the house, to come and go unquestioned and unrestrained by duties.

Thus, by aid of circumstance, had she put herself into complete accord
with the spirit of her time. Abundant privilege; no obligation. A
reference of all things to her sovereign will and pleasure. Withal, a
defiant rather than a hopeful mood; resentment of the undisguisable fact
that her will was sovereign only in a poor little sphere which she would
gladly have transcended.

Now-a-days she never went in the direction of Champion Hill, formerly
her favourite walk. If Jessica Morgan spoke of her acquaintances there,
she turned abruptly to another subject. She thought of the place as
an abode of arrogance and snobbery. She recalled with malicious
satisfaction her ill-mannered remark to Lionel Tarrant. Let him think of
her as he would; at all events he could no longer imagine her overawed
by his social prestige. The probability was that she had hurt him in a
sensitive spot; it might be hoped that the wound would rankle for a long
time.

Her personal demeanour showed a change. So careful hitherto of feminine
grace and decorum,