thing to forgive. Then, after a time, he began to think it
was on account of their poverty and the loss of their home, for nearly
all their furniture had been sold during the last winter. But whenever
he talked of trying to buy some more things to make the place
comfortable again, she did not appear to take any interest: the house
was neat enough as it was: they could manage very well, she said,
indifferently.

One evening, about the middle of June, when he had been over to the
allotments, Easton brought her home a bunch of flowers that Harlow had
given him--some red and white roses and some pansies. When he came in,
Ruth was packing his food basket for the next day. The baby was asleep
in its cot on the floor near the window. Although it was nearly nine
o'clock the lamp had not yet been lighted and the mournful twilight
that entered the room through the open window increased the desolation
of its appearance. The fire had burnt itself out and the grate was
filled with ashes. On the hearth was an old rug made of jute that had
once been printed in bright colours which had faded away till the whole
surface had become almost uniformly drab, showing scarcely any trace of
the original pattern. The rest of the floor was bare except for two or
three small pieces of old carpet that Ruth had bought for a few pence
at different times at some inferior second-hand shop. The chairs and
the table were almost the only things that were left of the original
furniture of the room, and except for three or four plates of different
patterns and sizes and a few cups and saucers, the shelves of the
dresser were bare.

The stillness of the atmosphere was disturbed only by the occasional
sound of the wheels of a passing vehicle and the strangely distinct
voices of some children who were playing in the street.

'I've brought you these,' said Easton, offering her the flowers. 'I
thought you'd like them. I got them from Harlow. You know I've been
helping him a little with his garden.'

At first he thought she did not want to take them. She was standing at
the table with her back to the window, so that he was unable to see the
expression of her face, and she hesitated for a moment before she
faltered out some words of thanks and took the flowers, which she put
down on the table almost as soon as she touched them.

Offended at what he considered her contemptuous indifference, Easton
made no further attempt at conversation but went i