d wife to you. And you have always trusted me, haven't you? And
you trust me still?"

She took his lean cold hand, and pressed it fervently: her eyes rested
on him with a strange mixture of timidity and anxiety. Still in the
prime of her life, she preserved the personal attractions--the fair calm
refined face, the natural grace of look and movement--which had made
her marriage to a man old enough to be her father a cause of angry
astonishment among all her friends. In the agitation that now possessed
her, her colour rose, her eyes brightened; she looked for the moment
almost young enough to be Emma's sister. Her husband opened his hard old
eyes in surly bewilderment. "Why need you make this fuss?" he asked. "I
don't understand you." Mrs. Ronald shrank at those words as if he had
struck her. She kissed him in silence, and joined her daughter in the
cab.

For the rest of that day, the persons in the stationer's employment had
a hard time of it with their master in the shop. Something had upset Old
Ronald. He ordered the shutters to be put up earlier that evening than
usual. Instead of going to his club (at the tavern round the corner),
he took a long walk in the lonely and lifeless streets of the City by
night. There was no disguising it from himself; his wife's behaviour at
parting had made him uneasy. He naturally swore at her for taking that
liberty, while he lay awake alone in his bed. "Damn the woman! What
does she mean?" The cry of the soul utters itself in various forms of
expression. That was the cry of Old Ronald's soul, literally translated.

III

The next morning brought him a letter from Ramsgate.

"I write immediately to tell you of our safe arrival. We have found
comfortable lodgings (as the address at the head of this letter will
inform you) in Albion Place. I thank you, and Emma desires to thank you
also, for your kindness in providing us with ample means for taking our
little trip. It is beautiful weather today; the sea is calm, and the
pleasure-boats are out. We do not of course expect to see you here.
But if you do, by any chance, overcome your objection to moving out
of London, I have a little request to make. Please let me hear of your
visit beforehand--so that I may not omit all needful preparations. I
know you dislike being troubled with letters (except on business), so
I will not write too frequently. Be so good as to take no news for good
news, in the intervals. When you have a few minutes to