on's, expressed
the gravity which Mrs. Maldon would wish, and also the affectionate
condescension of youth towards age, and of health towards infirmity.
And as almost unconsciously she exulted in her own youth, and
strength, delicate little poniards of tragic grief for Mrs. Maldon's
helpless and withered senility seemed to stab through that personal
pride. The shiny, veined right hand of the old woman emerged from
under the bedclothes and closed with hot, fragile grasp on Rachel's
hand.

Within the impeccable orderliness of the bedroom was silence;
and beyond was the vast Sunday afternoon silence of the district,
producing the sensation of surcease, re-creating the impressive
illusion of religion even out of the brutish irreligion that was
bewailed from pulpits to empty pews in all the temples of all the Five
Towns. Only the smoke waving slowly through the clean-washed sky from
a few high chimneys over miles of deserted manufactories made a link
between Saturday and Monday.

"I've something I want to say to you," said Mrs. Maldon, in that
deceptive matter-of-fact voice. "I wanted to tell you yesterday
afternoon, but I couldn't. And then again last night, but I went off
to sleep."

"Yes?" murmured Rachel, duped by Mrs. Maldon's manner into perfect
security. She was thinking: "What's the poor old thing got into her
head now? Is it something fresh about the money?"

"It's about yourself," said Mrs. Maldon.

Rachel exclaimed impulsively--

"What about me?"

She could feel a faint vibration in Mrs. Maldon's hand.

"I want you not to see so much of Louis."

Rachel was shocked and insulted. She straightened her spine and threw
back her head sharply. But she dared not by force withdraw her hand
from Mrs. Maldon's. Moreover, Mrs. Maldon's clasp tightened almost
convulsively.

"I suppose Mr. Batchgrew's been up here telling tales while I was
asleep," Rachel expostulated, hotly and her demeanour was at once
pouting, sulky, and righteously offended.

Mrs. Maldon was puzzled.

"This morning, do you mean, dear?" she asked.

Tears stood in Rachel's eyes. She could not speak, but she nodded her
head. And then another sentence burst from her full breast: "And you
told Mrs. Tams she wasn't to tell me Mr. Batchgrew'd called!"

"I've not seen or heard anything of Mr. Batchgrew," said Mrs. Maldon.
"But I did hear you and Louis talking outside last night."

The information startled Rachel.

"Well, and what if you did,