ox in which
she kept her treasures, unlocked it, took out the little note--the only
note she had ever had from him--read it again and again, and then tore
it into twenty pieces, each one of which she picked up and tried to put
together. She then threw herself on the bed, and for the first time in
her life was overcome with hysterical tears. She dared not confess to
herself what she wanted. She would have liked to cast herself at his
feet; but notwithstanding her disbelief in form and ceremony, she could
not do it. She cursed the check which had held her so straitly while
she was talking with him, and cursed him that he dealt with her so
lightly. The continued sobbing at last took the heat out of her, and
she rose from her bed, collected the pieces of the note, went
downstairs, and put them one by one deliberately in the fire.

It was time now that they should seriously consider how they stood.
Andrew had nothing to do, and the wages paid him in advance were nearly
exhausted. They decided that they would move into cheaper lodgings.
They had some difficulty in finding any that were decent but they
obtained three miserable rooms at the top of a house occupied by a man
who sold firewood and potatoes in one of the streets running out of the
Blackfriars Road. They left Miss Tippit without bidding her good-bye,
for she was still unwell, and in bed. They actually began to know what
poverty was, but Miriam as yet did not feel its approach. There were
thoughts and hopes in her which protected her against all apprehension
of the future, although the cloud into which they must almost
inevitably enter was so immediately in front of her.

The evening came on which she and Andrew were to go to the hall, but
Andrew had gone out early to look for some employment, and had not
returned. Miriam's hatred rose again, and again assumed an outward
garb of the purest virtue. She sat for some time in rapid debate with
herself as to what she dare do. Even she recoiled a little from going
to a music hall without her brother, but passion prevailed. She did
not simply determine to go knowing it to be wrong, but with great
earnestness demonstrated to herself that she was right; and then, as a
kind of sop to any lingering suspicions, left a note on the mantelpiece
for Andrew, upbraiding him for delay, and directing him to follow. No
Andrew appeared. She now began to feel how strange her position was.
She might easily before she started