life, both of soul and body,
was ascetic; she taught herself to expect, to hope for, nothing. When
she was hungry she had a sort of pleasure in enduring; when weary she
worked on as if by effort she could overcome the feeling. But Kate's
chief complaint against her was her determination to receive no help
save in the way of opportunity to earn money. This was something more
than, ordinary pride. Emma suffered intensely in the recollection that
she had lived at Mutimer's expense during the very months when he
was seeking the love of another woman, and casting about for means of
abandoning herself. When she thought of Alice coming with the proposal
that she and her sister should still occupy the house in Wilton Square,
and still receive money, the heat of shame and anger never failed to
rise to her cheeks. She could never accept from anyone again a penny
which she had not earned. She believed that Daniel Dabbs had been
repaid, otherwise she could not have rested a moment.

It was her terrible misfortune to have feelings too refined for the
position in which fate had placed her. Had she only been like those
other girls in the workroom! But we are interesting in proportion to our
capacity for suffering, and dignity comes of misery nobly borne.

As she sat working on Kate's dress, she was surprised to hear a
heavy step approaching. There came a knock at the door; she answered,
admitting Daniel.

He looked about the room, partly from curiosity, partly through
embarrassment. Dusk was falling.

'Young 'uns in bed?' he said, lowering his voice.

'Yes, they are asleep,' Emma replied.

'You don't mind me coming up?'

'Oh no!'

He went to the window and looked at the houses opposite, then at the
flushed sky.

'Bank holiday to-morrow. I thought I'd like to ask you whether you and
Mrs. Clay and the children 'ud come with me to Epping Forest. If it's
a day like this, it'll be a nice drive--do you good. You look as if you
wanted a breath of fresh air, if you don't mind me sayin' it.'

'It's very kind of you, Mr. Dabbs,' Emma replied. 'I am very sorry I
can't come myself, but my sister and the children perhaps--'

She could not refuse for them likewise, yet she was troubled to accept
so far.

'But why can't _you_ come?' he asked good-naturedly, slapping his hat
against his leg.

'I have some work that'll take me nearly all day.'

'But you've no business to work on a bank holiday. I'm not sure as it
ain't breakin' the