she elected to make it still more
unmistakable by her announcement of them.

"The Jervaises, mother," she said, with a supercilious lift of her head.
She might have been saying that the men had called for the rent.

Little Mrs. Banks looked every inch an aristocrat as she received them.
The gesture of her plump little white hands as she indicated chairs was
almost regal in its authority.

Old Jervaise, obviously nervous, accepted the invitation, but Frank, after
closing the door, stood leaning with his back against it. The position
gave him command of the whole room, and at the same time conveyed a
general effect of threat. His attitude said, "Now we've got you, and none
of you shall leave the room until you've paid in full for your
impertinence." I had guessed from his knock that he had finally put his
weakness for Anne away from him. He was clever enough to realise just how
and why she had fooled him. His single object, now, was revenge.

Banks brooded, rather neglected and overlooked in a corner by the window.
He appeared to have accepted his doom as assured, and being plunged into
the final gulf of despair, he had, now, no heart even to be apologetic.
The solid earth of his native country was slipping away from him; nothing
else mattered.

There was one brief, tense interval of silence before old Jervaise began
to speak. We all waited for him to state the case; Frank because he meant
to reserve himself for the dramatic moment; we others because we preferred
to throw the onus of statement upon him. (I do believe that throughout
that interview it is fair to speak of "we others," of the whole six of us,
almost as of a single mind with a single intention. We played our
individual parts in our own manners, but we were subject to a single will
which was, I firmly believe, the will of Mrs. Banks. Even her husband
followed her lead, if he did it with reluctance, while the rest of us
obeyed her with delight.)

Old Jervaise fumbled his opening. He looked pale and tired, as if he would
be glad to be out of it.

"We have called," he began, striving for an effect of magisterial gravity;
"we have come here, Mrs. Banks, to fetch my daughter. I understand that
you've been away from home--you and your husband--and you're probably not
aware of what has taken--has been going on in your absence."

"Oh! yes, we know," Mrs. Banks put in disconcertingly. She was sitting
erect and contemptuous in her chair at the foot of the table.