we should have to pawn our watches. But here we are
for the present, and here we must remain. I am awfully tired now, and
should so like to have a cup of tea--by ourselves." Then Mr. Moss
took his leave, promising to appear again upon the scene at eleven
o'clock on the following day. "Thank you," said Rachel, "you are very
kind, but I rather think I shall be out at eleven o'clock."

"What is the use of your carrying on like that with the man?" said
her father.

"Because he's a beast."

"My dear, he's not a beast. He's not a beast that you ought to treat
in that way. You'll be a beast too if you come to rise high in your
profession. It is a kind of work which sharpens the intellect, but is
apt to make men and women beasts. Did you ever hear of a prima donna
who thought that another prima donna sang better than she did?"

"I guess that all the prima donnas sing better than I do."

"But you have not got to the position yet. Mr. Moss, I take it, was
doing very well in New York, so as to have become a beast, as you
call him. But he's very good-natured."

"He's a nasty, stuck-up, greasy Jew. A decent young woman is insulted
by being spoken to by him."

"What made you tell him that you were engaged to Frank Jones?"

"I thought it might protect me--but it won't. I shall tell him next
time that I am Frank's wife. But even that will not protect me."

"You will have to see him very often."

"And very often I shall have to be insulted. I guess he does the same
kind of thing with all the singing girls who come into his hands."

"Give it up, Rachel."

"I don't mind being insulted so much as some girls do, you know. I
can't fancy an English girl putting up with him--unless she liked to
do as he pleased. I hate him;--but I think I can endure him. The only
thing is, whether he would turn against me and rend me. Then we shall
come utterly to the ground, here in London."

"Give it up."

"No! You can lecture and I can sing, and it's odd if we can't make
one profession or the other pay. I think I shall have to fight with
him, but I won't give it up. What I am afraid is that Frank should
appear on the scene. And then, oh law! if Mr. Moss should get one
blow in the eye!"

There she sat, sipping her tea and eating her toast, with her feet
upon the fender, while Mr. O'Mahony ate his mutton-chop and drank his
whisky and water.

"Father, now I'm coming back to my temper, I want something better
than this buttered toast. Coul