She said very little; she pressed her thin lips
together and let Gertie alone. The conversations that morning were of
the nature of disconnected monologues from Gertie with long silences
between.

It was an afternoon of silent storm. The Major was away in the West End
somewhere on mysterious affairs; the children were at school, and the
two women went about, each knowing what was in the mind of the other,
yet each resolved to keep up appearances.

At half-past five o'clock Frank abruptly came in for a cup of tea, and
Mrs. Partington gave it him in silence. (Gertie could be heard moving
about restlessly overhead.) She made one or two ordinary remarks,
watching Frank when he was not looking. But Frank said very little. He
sat up to the table; he drank two cups of tea out of the chipped enamel
mug, and then he set to work on his kippered herring. At this point Mrs.
Partington left the room, as if casually, and a minute later Gertie came
downstairs.

* * * * *

She came in with an indescribable air of virtue, rather white in the
face, with her small chin carefully thrust out and her eyelids drooping.
It was a pose she was accustomed to admire in high-minded and
aristocratic barmaids. Frank nodded at her and uttered a syllable or two
of greeting.

She said nothing; she went round to the window, carrying a white cotton
blouse she had been washing upstairs, and hung it on the clothes-line
that ran inside the window. Then, still affecting to be busy with it,
she fired her first shot, with her back to him.

"I'll thank you to let my business alone...."

(Frank put another piece of herring into his mouth.)

"... And not to send round any more of your nasty cats," added Gertie
after a pause.

There was silence from Frank.

"Well?" snapped Gertie.

"How dare you talk like that!" said Frank, perfectly quietly.

He spoke so low that Gertie mistook his attitude, and, leaning her
hands on the table, she poured out the torrent that had been gathering
within her ever since the Mission-lady had left her at eleven o'clock
that morning. The lady had not been tactful; she was quite new to the
work, and quite fresh from a women's college, and she had said a great
deal more than she ought, with an earnest smile upon her face that she
had thought conciliatory and persuasive. Gertie dealt with her
faithfully now; she sketched her character as she believed it to be; she
traced her motives and her att