shortly, disdainfully, to wither up silly
gossip.... Preposterous!

And yet--when George had shown her the licence, in the name of Cannon,
and she had ventured to say apologetically and caressingly: "I always
understood your real name was Canonges,"--how queerly he had looked as
he answered: "I changed it long ago--legally!" Yes, and she had
persuaded herself that the queerness of his look was only in her fancy!
But it was not only in her fancy. Suspicions, sinister trifling
souvenirs, crowded into her mind. Had she not always doubted him? Had
she not always said to herself that she was doing wrong in her marriage
and that she would thereby suffer? Had she not abandoned the pursuit of
religious truth in favour of light enjoyments?... Foolish of course,
old-fashioned of course, to put two and two together in this way! But
she could not refrain.

"I am ruined!" she decided, in awe.

And the next instant she was saying: "How absurd of me to be like this,
merely because Louisa..."

She thought she heard a noise below. Her heart leapt again into violent
activity. Trembling, she crept to the door, and gently unlatched it. No
slightest sound in the whole house! Dusk was coming on swiftly. Then she
could hear all the noises, accentuated beyond custom, of Louisa setting
tea in the dining-room for the Watchetts, and then the tea-bell rang.
Despite her fury, apparent in the noises, Louisa had not found courage
to neglect the sacred boarders. She made a defiant fuss, but she had to
yield, intimidated, to the force of habit and tradition. The Watchetts
descended the staircase from the drawing-room, practising as usual
elaborate small-talk among themselves. They had heard every infamous
word of Louisa's tirade; which had engendered in them a truly dreadful
and still delicious emotion; but they descended the staircase in good
order, discussing the project for a new pier.... They reached the
dining-room and shut the door on themselves.

Silence again! Louisa ought now to have set the tea in the basement
parlour. But Louisa did not. Louisa was hidden in the kitchen, doubtless
talking fourteen to the dozen with the cook. She had done all she meant
to do. She knew that she would be compelled to leave at once, and not
another stroke would she do of any kind! The master and the mistresses
must manage as best they could. Louisa was already wondering where she
would sleep that night, for she was alone on earth and owned one small
trunk