gestion, was always at his
worst at breakfast time; Mrs. Heron invariably appeared meaner and more
lachrymose; Isabel more irritable and dissatisfied; and Joseph, whose
bloodshot eyes and swollen lips testified to the arduous character of
his "late work at the office," went through the pretence of a meal with
a sullen doggedness which evinced itself by something like a snarl if
any one addressed him.

Hitherto he had, of course, been particularly, not to say unpleasantly,
civil to Ida, but after his repulse his manner became marked by a
covert insolence which was intended to remind her of her dependent
position, and the fact that her most direct means of escape from it was
by accepting him as her lover. This manner of his, offensive as it was
intended to be, Ida could have borne with more or less equanimity; for
to her, alas! Joseph Heron seemed of very little more account then one
of the tradesmen's boys she saw occasionally coming up to the house;
but after treating her to it for a day or two in the hope of breaking
her spirit, as he would have expressed it, his manner changed to one of
insinuating familiarity. He addressed her in a low voice, almost a
whisper, so that his sister and mother could not hear, and he smiled
and nodded at her in a would-be mysterious manner, as if they were
sharing some secret.

Though Ida did not know it, it was meant to rouse Mrs. Heron's
suspicions; and it succeeded admirably. Her thin, narrow face would
flush angrily and she would look across at Isabel significantly, and
Isabel would snigger and toss her head, as if she quite understood.

Ida often went to here own room before Mr. Joseph returned at night,
but sometimes he came in before she had gone; and he made a practice of
sitting near her, even venturing on occasions to lean over the back of
her chair, his mother watching him out of the corners of her eyes, and
with her thin lips drawn down; and although Ida invariably got up and
went to another part of the room, her avoidance of Joseph did not lull
his mother's suspicions. Ida's contempt for the young man was too
profound to permit of such a sentiment as hatred--one can scarcely hate
that which one scorns--but whenever he came near her with his tobacco
and spirit-laden breath, she was conscious of an inward shudder which
closely resembled that with which she passed through the reptile house
at the Zoological Gardens.

Mr. Joseph, the house, the whole life, began to get on her