hat; and gradually you'll get them
more and more beautiful machines, till their work is just pleasure and
nothing else. And do invent something to prevent Sabina and Nancy and
Alice hurting their hands. They have to stop the spindles so often, and
it wounds them, and Nancy gets chilblains in the winter, so it's simply
horrid for her."

"That's right. It's one of the problems. I'm not forgetting these
things."

"And if I think of anything may I tell you?"

"I hope you will, Estelle."

She talked him into a pleasant humour, and it took a practical form
unknown to Estelle, for before they had reached home again, there passed
through Raymond's mind a wave of contrition. The contrast between
Estelle's steadfast and unconscious altruism and his own irresolution
and selfishness struck into him. She made him think more kindly of
Sabina, and when he considered the events of that day from Sabina's
standpoint, he felt ashamed of himself. For it was not she who had done
anything unreasonable. The blame was his. He had practically lied to her
the day before, and to-day he had been harsh and cruel. She had a
right--the best possible right--to come and see him; she had good
reason to be angry on learning that he had not kept his word.

He determined to see Sabina as quickly as possible, and about seven
o'clock in the evening after the return from the walk, he went down to
'The Magnolias' and rang the bell. Mrs. Dinnett came to the door, and
said something that hardened the young man's heart again very rapidly.

Sabina's mother was unfriendly. Since her daughter returned, she had
learned all there was to know, and for the moment felt very
antagonistic. She had already announced the betrothal to certain of her
friends, and the facts that day had discovered made her both anxious and
angry. She was a woman of intermittent courage, but her paroxysms of
pluck soon passed and between them she was craven and easily cast down.
For the moment, however, she felt no fear and echoed the mood in which
Sabina had returned from Bridport an hour earlier.

"Sabina can't be seen to-night," she said. "You wouldn't have anything
to do with her this afternoon, Mr. Ironsyde, and treated her like a
stranger; and now she won't see you."

"Why not, Missis Dinnett?"

"She's got her pride, and you've wounded it--and worse. And I may tell
you we're not the people to be treated like this. It's a very
ill-convenient business altogether, and if you're a g