ith should receive one fifth of the
capital, four fifths reverting to herself.

Victoria revelled somewhat in the technicalities of the deed; every
clause she framed was a pleasure in itself; she turned the
'hereinbefores' and the 'predecease as aforesaids' round in her mouth as
if they were luscious sweets. The pleasure of it was not that of Lady
Bountiful showering blessings and feeling the holy glow of charity
penetrate her being. Victoria's satisfaction was more vixenish; she, the
outlaw, the outcast, had wrested from Society enough money to indulge in
the luxury of promoting a marriage, converting the illegal into the
legal, creating respectability. The gains that Society term infamous
were being turned towards the support of that Society; still more,
failing her infamous help, Betty and Edward Smith would not have
achieved their coming together with the approval of the Law, their
spiritual regeneration and a house at Shepherd's Bush.

She was now the mistress of a fortune of over ten thousand pounds, a
good half of which was due to her final stratagem. The time had now come
for her to retire to the house in the country when she could resume her
own name, piece together for the sake of the county her career since she
left India for Alabama, and read the local agricultural rag. Her plans
were postponed, however, owing to Holt's state of health, which
compelled her, out of sheer humanity, to take him to a sunnier clime.
She dismissed Algiers as being too far; she asked Holt where he would
like to go to, but he merely replied 'East Coast,' which in December
struck her as being absurd. Finally she decided to take him to
Folkestone, as it was very near and he would doubtless like to sit with
the dogs on the Leas.

Folkestone was bright and sunny. The sting in the glowing air brought
fresh colour to Victoria's cheeks, a deeper brilliancy to her grey eyes;
she felt well; her back was straighter; when a lock of dark hair strayed
into her mouth driven by the high wind it tasted salt on her lips.
Sometimes she could have leaped, shouted, for life was rushing in upon
her like a tide. Most days, however, she was quiet, for Holt was not
affected by the sea. His listlessness was now such that he hardly spoke.
He would walk by her side vacuously, looking at his surroundings as if
he did not see them. At times he stopped, concentrated with an effort
and bought a bun from a hawker to break up for the dogs.

Victoria noticed tha